


f1 drabbles collection

by altissimozucca



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Blanket Forts, Cold, Coming Out, Cuddling, Death, Dogs, Domestic Fluff, Drunkenness, First Wins, Long-Distance Relationship, Sickness, Simulator Handjobs, Slice of Life, Teasing, Thunderstorms, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unrequited Love, hangovers, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 38
Words: 21,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21703261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altissimozucca/pseuds/altissimozucca
Summary: A collection of stories shorter than 1 000 words.
Relationships: Alexander Albon & Pierre Gasly, Alexander Albon/George Russell, Alexander Albon/Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc/George Russell, Charles Leclerc/Lando Norris, Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen, Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz Jr, Lewis Hamilton/Max Verstappen, Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc, Pierre Gasly/Daniil Kvyat, Pierre Gasly/Max Verstappen
Comments: 206
Kudos: 385





	1. charles/max: mornings

**Max woke up** to a pair of soft lips pressing against his forehead.

He mumbled something out and felt them twist into a smile against his skin before he snuggled into the blankets and tried to go back to sleep; in his dazed state, he could hear the bedroom door closing and Charles singing softly as he waltzed into the living room of Max’s apartment.

Sometime later, the Dutchman got out of bed and followed the sound of his boyfriend’s whistling from the kitchen. Max leant against the doorframe and eyed Charles as he flipped a pancake, seeming to be in his own, little world.

“Good morning,” Max greeted him, letting out a laugh when Charles jumped, clutching a hand against his chest. “Sorry, didn’t meant to scare you.”

Charles took the pancake out of the pan and put it on a plate, thrusting it into Max’s hands with a grin, “I made breakfast.”

Max chuckled, “Thank you.” He sat on the counter, grinning innocently at Charles’ pointed gaze and ate the pancake in one go. He held the empty plate out, “Can I get one more?”

Charles rolled his eyes fondly but took it so he can give Max another. He began whistling again, making Max smile. “I like it when you sing,” he said, causing Charles to stop and shrug. “My pretty, little popstar who makes good pancakes,” Max added, chuckling at his boyfriend’s reddening cheeks.

“Shut up,” Charles mumbled back, but a smile formed on his face and he kissed Max softly before turning back to the stove and continuing with his quiet singing and flipping pancakes. Max let out a happy sigh as he watched him, content to spend the rest of his life with Charles by his side.


	2. alex/george: coming out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for Zoë, who always wants more tall bois

**Alex felt ecstatic** as he crossed the line in first, yelling incoherent words of joy through his team radio; his head was buzzing as he spoke to his engineers, relishing the praises they threw his way.

_“This is redemption for last year,” _he could hear Christian say and Alex had to agree - it was redemption and crossing the line just a few seconds ahead of Lewis brought him greater satisfaction than it probably should’ve; last year it was Max, this time it was Alex.

As he parked his car in parc fermé, Alex could hear his engineer listing off the names of others who crossed the line and he felt a wide grin grow on his face as he heard him say, _“Russell, P8.”_ George had just scored his first F1 points, at the same race Alex had gotten his first win; the Thai driver couldn’t stop smiling as he got out of the car, exchanging congratulations with Lewis and Max.

He felt himself getting lost in a sea of blue, shouting becoming muffled noises in his ears. He was on cloud nine, giddiness engulfing him as Max pulled him into a hug, followed by Christian and the rest of the team. Alex’s eyes were scanning the area for one person in particular, rushing towards him as soon as he saw him step out, an equally wide grin on his face.

Alex seemed to forget where he was and that the whole world was watching him as he pulled George into his arms, embracing him tightly before pressing his lips against the Brit’s, just as they did every night before they went to bed. George returned the kiss eagerly and the world around them turned hazy, a silence followed by loud roaring and flashes of cameras pointed at the two of them.

“I can’t believe I’m dating a race winner,” he felt George mumble against his lips, making him chuckle. They pulled away and Alex felt himself getting lost in his boyfriend’s eyes, but a tap on his shoulder made him aware of what they’d just done, and he felt his blood run cold.

Meeting the eyes of his press officer, Alex swallowed a lump that suddenly formed, but Jacques was only shaking his head in amusement. “You’re in public, boys,” he remarked, making Alex let out a sigh of relief.

The cameras were still flashing and Alex looked at his team - who all remained frozen in their spots – and his teammate with his mouth opening and closing on the loop; Alex knew that an interrogation was inevitable and inwardly, he cursed himself for putting George through that, especially on the day of his biggest achievement in the sport so far.

A familiar, soft hand wrapped around his own, calming his fraying nerves and as Alex looked at George, smiling softly at him with pride evident on his face, he was ready to take on every question and remark bound to come their way.


	3. charles/george: thunderstorm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for kakkakerssi, who requested this pairing

** The loud clashing** of thunder made George flinch, closing his eyes each time the lightning flashed in the gloomy, Japanese night sky.

He took a deep breath and tried to count to ten, routinely telling himself _in and out_ as if it would help calm his erratic heart. Usually, he had Alex to help him with the thunderstorms, but his friend was too occupied by his newly formed relationship with his teammate, so George was left by himself in the late hours of the night.

George couldn’t be mad at Alex, though; he _had_ gotten a text asking if he was okay, to which he replied with affirmative words and a lot of emojis, even though he was shivering in his bed, missing the tiny letters on the keyboard with his shaky hands.

The Brit took another deep breath, putting his head into his hands and swearing quietly, as if someone would hear him in the empty hotel room. Contemplating what to do to ease the feeling of fright evoked in him by the raging storm outside, George decided to walk out to the lobby in hopes of finding someone to calm the loud thoughts in his head.

As he walked downstairs, he greeted the ladies at the front desk and made his way towards the high-end couches at the corner of the room where he saw a head of ruffled hair peaking out. Upon closer inspection – and the scarlet shirt the person was wearing – George concluded that it was Charles; the Brit stopped in his tracks, his initial plan falling into the water as he figured the identity of what seemed like the only person in the otherwise empty lounge.

It wasn’t that George didn’t like Charles – _no,_ the problem was the exact opposite. George liked Charles most likely way too much with how much time he actually spent with the Ferrari driver. But that didn’t stop him from growing feelings.

Apparently, a few kind words of encouragement and some accidental touches were enough for George to become completely enamoured with another person.

His newest plan of escape was stopped by the Monègasque driver noticing him and smiling tiredly, patting the seat next to him. George couldn’t say no to a face like that, so he joined Charles, keeping slight distance between them.

“What’s up?” the older of the two asked, shuffling the papers he had been reading and placing them on his lap, not once taking his eyes off George.

“I can’t sleep,” he replied, stifling a yawn threatening to escape past his lips. Charles’ lips turned downwards, eyebrows creasing in worry, but George waved him off before he could say anything. “What are you still doing up?”

“Looking at some data. I had a coffee and just stayed here because it’s peaceful.” Charles’ lips quirked into the small smile again. “The caffeine didn’t help, I feel like I’ll fall asleep any moment,” he added.

“Lucky you,” George couldn’t help but mumble, circling his arms around his waist and looking at the storm outside, chest clenching at the sound of the howling wind. His bottom lip was quivering, and he bit it almost to the point of drawing blood.

Charles noticed and an idea popped up in his head, “Do you want to do something?”

“What?” George questioned, already agreeing to the request without even hearing it; Charles presented his idea of watching a film and George voiced his confirmation, standing up and tucking his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

Charles grabbed him by his forearm, clutching the papers in the other hand and pulled the taller boy towards the elevators. Soon they found themselves in Charles’ room, where he offered some snacks to the younger boy and set up a makeshift cinema on the bed, consisting of his laptop and all pillows from every seat in the area.

They got themselves comfortable, George keeping a fair distance between them. He couldn’t concentrate on the screen, flinching inwardly at every roar of thunder; there was a really loud and unexpected one that caused him to jump, clutching a hand over his chest.

George felt an arm circle around his side and pull him in; he stiffened from the embrace, ready to apologize, but Charles just tightened his grip and whispered, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” George relaxed after that, even cuddling closer to the Monègasque.

Soon enough, he began dozing off to the feel of soft fingers running down his back and side, the thunderstorm outside calming along with the Williams driver.


	4. charles/lando: blanket fort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this pairing way too much to not write something about them

**Lando was growing** bored of sitting around Charles’ flat in Monaco doing nothing all day, the usually active Brit getting left alone while his boyfriend left to run some quick errands what seemed like three days ago.

In truth, it had only been an hour.

The twenty-year-old groaned, rolling over on his side of the king-sized bed and sprawling in the starfish position, tapping his hand against the covers as he pondered on what to do; there were endless possibilities, but Lando felt as though none of them were enough to occupy him until Charles got back home.

He rolled again, this time on his back and stared at the ceiling, shutting his eyes every so often. The blanket he was laying on felt soft underneath his fingers, the plush material feeling like something heavenly.

Suddenly, he got an idea and stood up, blood rushing to his head and making him lose balance; he wobbled on his feet, but the wide grin on his face didn’t cease as he began gathering every piece of bedding and pillows he could possibly find.

Lando walked into the living room holding a mass of blankets, duvets, pillows and God knows what else; he carelessly threw them onto the couch, letting out a sigh of relief before scanning the room to see what the best game-plan would be.

He brought three chairs from the dining area after clearing some space for his masterpiece. Lando began placing the blankets over them strategically, groaning whenever they didn’t stand the way he wanted them to.

About fifteen minutes into his building, he heard the door of the flat open and Charles calling out, “Lando? Where are you?”

“In the living room,” the Brit responded, going back to his work; he could hear Charles’ footsteps thudding against the floorboards softly as he padded towards Lando before a familiar pair of arms wrapped around his waist. “Hey,” Lando spoke softly, turning around to embrace his boyfriend.

“What are you doing?” Charles questioned, pressing a light kiss to Lando’s lips before gesturing towards the structure in the middle of the room. “Did a hurricane pass through here or something?”

Lando groaned before saying, “I’m building a blanket fort,” as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Charles hummed, nodding slightly before taking the pillow Lando has been holding out of his hands.

“Can I help?” the Monègasque asked, nudging his boyfriend with his side lightly; Lando chuckled before saying yes, grabbing the pillow back from Charles and pointing it at him threateningly.

“But you listen to me.”

Charles raised his hands in mock resignation, a grin playing on his face as he rolled his eyes fondly. He listened to Lando’s orders on where to put what and soon enough, in the middle of Charles’ living room stood a fully-finished blanket fort, duvets and pillows on the ground and a proud Lando in front of it.

He did a little jazz-hands gesture followed by a soft, “Ta-da!” Charles pulled him in closer, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing his cheek. “Now we can watch a film,” Lando added, nuzzling into Charles.

“Bring your laptop and snacks from the kitchen while I look for something,” Charles responded, earning a nod from his boyfriend.

Lando did as he was told, only to find Charles placing some battery-powered Christmas light inside of the fort. The space was filled by soft, yellow light soon after, Charles grinning at Lando who placed his laptop and crisps inside before joining Charles on the ground.

His boyfriend pulled him in, the younger of them sighing contently as Charles kissed his cheek. He pressed play on the film, relaxing further into Charles’ hold and smiling when he felt his boyfriend playing with his fingers.

“I could stay here with you forever,” Charles whispered into his ear, evoking a shiver from Lando; he could hear Charles heartbeat and feel his hot breath fanning over the side of his head, soft lips touching the nape of Lando’s neck and fingers rubbing circles into his side.

He felt in absolute heaven as he replied, “Then let’s stay here for the rest of our lives.”


	5. alex/george: blankets

** Alex was laying** on the sofa, coughing and sniffling from the cold he’d caught; his throat felt dry, his nose was stuffed, and he was pretty sure he had a fever, with how much he was shaking.

A groan left his lips as he picked up a tissue, blowing his nose loudly and letting out a cough from the bottom of his chest immediately after. On the coffee table in front of him was a cup of steaming tea sweetened with honey to calm his heaving chest a bit.

He was wearing George’s hoodie, with two more shirts underneath and he was sweating buckets, but knew better than to try and take something off because George was there somewhere and Alex would get scolded and wrapped in even more layers – which was something he definitely didn’t want.

Alex began coughing again, alerting George who rushed into the room and next to Alex, thumping his back lightly. “I’m not choking,” Alex breathed out through his coughing fit, receiving an eyeroll in response.

“It sometimes helps with coughing.” George moved away, looking at Alex in worry. “Are you feeling any better?”

“It’s a cold, not some terminal disease,” Alex deadpanned. George just let out a sigh, running a hand through Alex’s hair. “I’ll be as good as new tomorrow,” he added.

“Don’t lie down so much, try to be in a more sitting position – it helps with coughing. And don’t lay on your side, that does the opposite.” Alex nodded, doing as his boyfriend told him. “I cooked some soup, do you want any?” George asked, standing up.

Alex nodded in response, “Yes, please.” George kissed his forehead lightly and left, returning soon after with a bowl of soup and a spoon for Alex, who began eating as soon as he was handed the food. He watched George move around the room, rummaging through a cupboard and return with a blanket in his hands.

He placed it over Alex, who was inwardly screaming at George but smiled nonetheless. “Do you need anything else?” Alex shook his head, placing the empty bowl onto the coffee table and cuddling into the bundle of layers he was wrapped in.

He must’ve fallen asleep because the next time he came to, it was dark outside. George was sitting on the opposite edge of the couch, typing away on his laptop and Alex observed the sight for a little while; he began feeling hot and noticed that another blanket found its way over the one put there earlier.

Alex let out a sigh, alerting George who placed his laptop at his side. “Have a nice nap?” he asked, evoking a nod from Alex who yawned, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“What time is it?”

“Just past six.” Alex sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Do you want anything?” George questioned, taking Alex’s hand in his.

Alex shook his head, mumbling, “I’m alright.” He stretched his back before laying back down, smiling at his boyfriend. George stood up and went to press a kiss to Alex’s forehead, nudging his cheek with his nose afterwards.

Alex shivered involuntarily, making George look at him in worry. “Are you cold? Do you want another blanket?” Even though Alex was shaking his head, George brought another one, wrapping his boyfriend.

“This is the third blanket you’ve placed over me,” Alex noted, counting the layers and mentally sighing; he was grateful for George and his helpfulness, but _he was not feeling cold. _If anything, the heat was making him feel worse, but he didn’t have the heart to tell that to George.

“Do you want more?” He was already up on his feet, inching to the cupboard that Alex would be taking a look at once he got better; he called out his boyfriend’s name, making him stop in his tracks and look back at Alex.

“I love you,” Alex began, melting at the soft smile on George’s face before continuing, “But if you bring another blanket, I will choke you with it.”


	6. alex/max: plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by an upcoming story by Zoë, here's some Malex for you

**Max has succumbed **to being a stuttering, flabbergasted mess when in presence of Alex.

That was a bit of a problem as Alex was his teammate and Max often found himself in the Thai man’s company. He felt angry at himself for letting it come to that and more often than not, Max would keep quiet so he doesn’t embarrass himself by saying something really, really stupid.

(Like that time he told Alex he has nice socks… while he wasn’t wearing any. _That_ was the peak of Max’s stupidity when it came to talking to his teammate-slash-crush.)

Luckily for him, Alex laughed it off and Max laughed along, too, internally wanting to smack his head with a snow shovel. Repeatedly.

Whenever the two Red Bull drivers found themselves filming videos for the team’s YouTube channel, Max would have to try and keep his cool and most of the time, he did a fairly good job. There were some slip-ups here and there, but he thought he was doing alright all-in-all.

They were filming the end-of-the-season video and Max couldn’t wait until it was over just so he could stop talking and stare at Alex from afar, like any other sane person. Once they finally wrapped it up, Max was out of his seat in a flash but Alex called out his name, so the Dutchman stopped in his tracks and waited for his teammate to catch up with him.

“I wanted to speak with you for a bit, if you can?” Alex asked, receiving a nod from Max. The Thai man smiled at him, pointing to a secluded corner of the room where they wouldn’t get in the way of the workers and Max trailed after him, mentally going over every single bad scenario his mind could come up with.

Once they were away from the crew, Alex let out a sigh of relief and looked at Max. “I wanted to ask you what you’re doing for holidays?”

Max let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding and thought for a bit, “I was serious when I said I’ll just play _iRacing_. I don’t have anything planned.”

Alex bit his bottom lip – an action Max took notice of immediately – before replying, “Well, if you want to, you can come by sometime. I’d like to see you over the break.” Both of their cheeks coated in a tinge of pink, and when Max smiled, Alex thought his heart was doing backflips.

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” the Dutchman replied quietly, gaze gluing to the ground. Before he could stop himself, he went up on his tiptoes and pressed a kiss against Alex’s cheek, blush intensifying once he pulled away.

“I’d like to take you out on a date,” Alex said after they just looked at each other for a while.

“I’d like that, too,” Max replied, calm on the outside but bursting on the inside; he thought he was dreaming for a bit and he pinched himself, yelping at the slight stab of pain as he accidentally pulled his arm hair.

Alex chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re an idiot,” he said fondly, earning an eyeroll from Max. They could hear Jacques and Vicky calling out their names and let out a synchronized sigh.

“Well, we must get going.” They remained in their spot until their press officers called after them again. “See you during the break, Alex.”

“See you during the break.”


	7. max/charles: glitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is more max looking after his baby siblings than actual max/charles, but I'm still tagging it as the ship

**When Jos asked** Max if he could watch over his half-siblings for the evening, the young Red Bull driver just couldn’t say no.

He wasn’t great at watching kids – especially a five-year-old and a less-than-a-year-old – but his father was desperate and there was nobody else he could’ve asked in Monaco. Max didn’t know what his father was doing, and he truthfully didn’t really care; he only agreed because there was only a handful od times he’d heard his father _beg_ and since his little sister seemed to adore him.

There’s something really special in a five-year-old telling you that you’re the best big brother ever (even if you’re their only big brother).

That’s how the Dutchman found himself with a fussy baby, a bag of necessities for said baby and a hyperactive child with said child holding his hand as they walked towards his flat from his father’s place, trying his best to calm down his baby brother. Little Blue Jaye was talking excitedly about something in Dutch, every-so-often letting go of Max’s hand to fix the Red Bull beanie her brother had pulled over her head when she complained about being cold.

Max couldn’t have been happier once they were safely in his flat, Jason having calmed down on the walk and falling asleep. He laid his baby brother on his bed with pillows on each side for safety, so he doesn’t end up rolling over.

Max wasn’t sure if he _could_ roll over but didn’t want to risk it.

He searched the bag Sandy gave him for the baby monitor and turned it on, leaving it beside his bed before turning off the lights and joining Blue in the living room where she was waiting for him patiently. He ruffled her blonde hair, asking, _“What do you want to do?”_

_“Can we draw?”_ she replied, looking at him excitedly. He nodded, earning himself a grin from his sister as she spilled out the contents of the small Frozen-themed backpack she took with her. A mess of crayons, pens and paper covered Max’s carpet and he let out an internal sigh, sitting criss-crossed next to Blue.

The little girl grabbed the red spiral notebook from the pile, opening it on a random page before taking a pen and scribbling something onto the paper. Not knowing what else to do, Max followed her lead, opening a colouring book on an empty page. _“Can I do this?”_ he asked first, not wanting to do something she planned on doing (even though he doubted she would ever colour the bulky robot).

_“Yes, yes,”_ Blue replied, not taking her eyes off the picture she was drawing. Max shrugged, taking a blue crayon and beginning to colour the robot with the best of his ability – even though it wasn’t that great.

They fell into silence, both of them engrossed in the activity; sometimes Blue Jaye looked at Max’s robot and nodded approvingly, showing him the wide array of animals she was drawing. _“This is a lion, like the one on your helmet,”_ she pointed out, making him ruffle her hair lovingly, causing her to stick out her tongue.

Max’s phone began ringing, breaking them out of the little peaceful bubble they found themselves in. He could hear Jason crying in the bedroom and groaned, knowing that the phone woke him up. _“Answer this and talk to whoever it is, I have to take your brother,”_ he said, handing his phone to his sister without looking at who was calling.

He entered his bedroom, taking the baby into his arms and rocking him lightly, trying to calm him down; he could hear Blue talking incoherently, but was too busy with getting Jason back to sleep. Eventually the baby fell asleep again and Max let out a sigh of relief, kissing his forehead before tucking him back in.

Max left his bedroom only to have Blue thrust the device into his hands. _“He doesn’t speak Dutch, Maxy. I’m gonna go finish my animals,”_ she said disappointedly, plopping back down on the ground and continuing with her scribbling.

The Dutchman finally looked at his phone properly, seeing Charles’ confused, smiley face staring back at him. He smiled at his boyfriend, rubbing a hand over his face. “Dad left the kids with me,” he explained, “It was all sudden and I forgot to tell you.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Charles replied. Max sat onto the ground next to Blue, placing his phone on the table so that he could use his hands freely if he needed to. His sister shot small glances at him then at Charles, waving lightly at the Monègasque.

“Did you need something?” Max asked, taking a red crayon and continuing the robot. He felt a nudge to his side and he raised his hand for Charles to wait a second, turning his attention to his sister, _“Yes?”_

_“Who’s that?”_ she questioned, looking at the device on the table.

_“That’s Charles. He’s really nice but he doesn’t speak a word of Dutch so we can talk about him all you want without him knowing about it,”_ Max’s voice was light and he looked at Charles teasingly, earning an eyeroll from his boyfriend.

_“Okay.”_ Blue nodded pointedly before pulling Max’s sleeve. He motioned for her to go on. _“Can I use glitter for this? I want it to shine like the lion on your helmet does.”_

Max nodded in response, not thinking much about it. He turned his attention back to his boyfriend, “I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s okay,” Charles replied, smiling softly at him. “I called you because I wanted to talk to you for a bit. I didn’t know you were busy,” he answered his earlier question. “What are you drawing?” Charles asked, looking genuinely curious.

“I’m colouring a robot.”

“Does he have a name?” Max looked at him in disbelief, shaking his head. “You have to give him a name!”

“I’m bad at naming things! You give him a name.”

Before their banter could continue, Max felt something spraying over his face followed by Charles’ laughter. He looked at his sister in disbelief, shaking his head to let the glitter fall into his lap; Blue was looking at him sheepishly, holding a half-empty container of red glitter.

_“I’m sorry Maxy, I wanted you to open it and it just burst, I didn’t want to cover you in glitter, I promise,”_ she began rambling, tears forming in the corners of her eyes making him sigh and pull her into a hug, calming her down.

_“It’s okay, I’m not angry,”_ he soothed her, tapping her cheek once she pulled away from the hug. _“Go on and finish my lion, I can’t wait to see it once it’s done.”_

She nodded, smiling at him and kissing his cheek before scrambling back towards her piece of paper. Max stifled a groan as he saw the mess on his carpet, knowing how much of a pain glitter was to remove.

He almost forgot the call with Charles was still connected until he heard his boyfriend speak, “Hey, Maxy?” The Dutchman looked at him, Charles trying to conceal his chuckles as he continued, “You look like you belong on top of a Christmas tree.”


	8. max/charles: love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haven't written one of these in a while, enjoy some sappy max/charles

**He looked so** enchanting beneath the soft rays of morning sunshine.

Max couldn’t tear his eyes away from Charles, bundled up in the white covers with his head against the pillow, sleeping despite the light shining straight onto his face. He looked so peaceful, so calm with his lips tugged into a light smile.

Running his thumb down the side of Charles’ face, Max couldn’t help but let his adoration for the slightly younger Monégasque show. He gazed at Charles lovingly, pressing his soft lips on the dark-haired man’s forehead.

“I love you,” Max whispered, kissing the tip of Charles’ nose. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” he felt Charles whisper groggily, opening his eyes and letting his eyelashes flutter against Max’s cheek. He smiled sleepily, his eyes droopy as he let out a yawn. Charles squinted at the sunlight, making Max chuckle at him amusedly.

“You look so beautiful,” Max continued, pressing his lips to Charles’. “You make me want to take a photo of you… keep you in my pocket forever.” He could see his boyfriend’s cheeks turning crimson as he groaned, nuzzling his face into the pillow.

“You’re sappy this morning,” Charles spoke into the fabric, voice muffled. Max just laid down next to him, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and pulled him in closer.

“I want to show you how much I love you,” he whispered in Charles’ ear, kissing the back of his neck lightly. “Because I  _ do _ love you, so much,” Max continued.

Charles relaxed in Max’s hold, turning to his other side so he could look into Max’s eyes; he was enamoured by the pure adoration and love they held, completely entranced by how Max wore his heart on his sleeve - or in his eyes.

There never was any doubt about how they felt about each other; it was in the little things, like the daily check-up texts even if they haven’t had the time for a proper conversation, or the soft knuckle kisses while they held hands.

It showed in the joy they felt when they were with each other, the relaxation and peace, and the ability to calm the other even in the toughest of times; they remained together through both ups and downs, through thick and thin.

In that moment, love was the way Max gazed at Charles as if he was his whole world and the way Charles felt like he was, too.


	9. daniel/charles: hangover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the anon who requested this pairing a while back - I hope you like it

**Charles woke up** to the sound of the shower running.

He groaned, pressing his face into the pillow as the perfect example of how not to soothe his headache but frowned at the unfamiliar scent filling his nostrils. He rolled onto his back with his eyes closed before opening them slowly and meeting an orange-dyed ceiling that most definitely wasn’t in his hotel room.

Charles let out another groan, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes as he took in the state of the room; he could see clothes strewn around messily (including his own Ferrari shirt) and an empty bottle of Mexican tequila on the desk. 

He tried to remember the previous night, but the last thing he was aware of was getting shots in the private hotel bar with some of the other drivers; Charles had a vague memory of Max dragging him into some drinking game he was terrible at.

The sight of the black and yellow Renault kit strewn over the armchair calmed his nerves a little, as that narrowed the possibility of the room owner to two other drivers and Charles seriously doubted it was Nico. 

His thoughts were answered as the door to the bathroom opened and in walked Daniel, drying his messy hair with a fluffy, white towel. He smiled at Charles, squinting at the light coming in from the windows and closing the blinds, earning a grateful look from the Monégasque.

“Couldn’t have done that yourself, could you?” the Aussie teased, kneeling next to his suitcase and pulling out a box of painkillers. He offered one to Charles, who took it gratefully, before giving him a bottle of water which he downed in one go.

“Thanks,” Charles said, laying back down. “What happened last night?” he questioned, feeling Daniel lay down next to him.

“You got pretty hammered with Max and wouldn’t leave my side,” Dan replied, chuckling at the redness beginning to coat Charles’ cheeks. “I had no choice but to put you to bed here, since you couldn’t remember your hotel room number.”

“I’m sorry,” Charles let out a groan. 

“It’s okay, it happens,” Daniel responded, patting Charles’ shoulder. He felt Charles beginning to doze off again and smiled, running his fingers through the Ferrari driver’s hair. Charles let out a hum of contentment, lips slightly tugging upwards as he cuddled into the Renault driver.

The last thing he could remember before falling asleep again was the feeling of Daniel’s lips softly pressing against his forehead.


	10. daniel/max: pizza

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some good old maxiel and my first time writing this ship but I've seen an imagine-your-otp like this and couldn't not write it

** When Max got ** a call on FaceTime from his boyfriend at three in the morning, he knew he was in for a treat.

Accepting it, the sleepy Dutchman found himself meeting the face of Daniel, the Aussie obviously completely hammered as he went out with some friends earlier. He couldn’t help but smile as Daniel greeted him cheerfully, image blurred by the shaking of his hands.

“Dan, it’s just past three,” Max spoke, causing Daniel to frown, lips tugged in a childish pout; he couldn’t help but chuckle at the expression.

“I’m sorry for waking you up, Maxy.” Dan’s accent became thicker the more he drank and Max found himself enjoying the sound, turning on his side and propping his phone against the mattress as he talked to his boyfriend.

“It’s okay,” Max replied, letting out a yawn. “What did you need?”

“I just wanted to let you know I got pizza.” He showed the slice to the camera, making Max burst into silent laughter at his boyfriend’s excitement. “I  _ love _ pizza,” Daniel dragged out the words, taking a bite and letting out a content sigh.

“I know you do. You love pizza more than you love me.”

Daniel let out a loud noise of disagreement, “I love you more than pizza, Maxy. It doesn’t even come close to you, you’re so perfect. My perfect, adorable boyfriend who I love the most.”

Max blushed, “Shut up.”

“I’m serious. You wanna know how perfect you are?” Despite Max’s protests, he continued speaking, “Look at this pizza. For you, I’ll drop this pizza.”

“Dan, you don’t have t-” Max was stopped by Daniel just throwing the pizza behind himself, showing an empty hand waving about. The Dutchman let out a sigh, closing his eyes and knowing how much he’ll enjoy retelling this to Dan the following morning.

“It’s gone.” 

“I can see it’s gone. You didn’t have to throw it, though. I already know you love me.”

“I had to show you my love. I don’t love pizza more than you,” Dan was still rambling drunkenly, making Max chuckle. He shook his head fondly, full of adoration for the older man on the other side of the video call.

“You just get home safe and then you can tell me how much you love me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to talk, find me on tumblr, it's plavi-suncokret


	11. alex&pierre: unrequited love (and helping out)

** Pierre could see** the longing look on Alex’s face as he looked at the way George and Lando were holding hands, whispering to each other quietly and giggling.

Sympathy ached in the Frenchman’s chest, knowing well enough how Alex had to be feeling; instead of the bitterness people would expect him to feel towards Alex, Pierre only felt some form of protectiveness. He knew how unrequited feelings felt, had experienced it first-hand few months ago, too.

Even now, he still looked away when he’d see Charles pressed against Max’s side, the Dutchman pressing his lips to Charles’ forehead and causing him to smile in such a love-sick manner it made Pierre want to throw up.

He could remember the initial shock when Charles came out to him, the moment of joy when he realised that there might be a chance for him only to have it tumbling down like a pile of rocks from a cliff as Charles said, _“I’m in love with Max.”_

For a while, Pierre couldn’t look at either of them; he closed himself off from everyone, just like Alex was doing with George and Lando. It was inevitable, the need to place some distance between himself and what was hurting him. It was one of the toughest periods of Pierre’s life, especially since Charles demanded to know what was going on.

He didn’t tell him, of course; he’d be stupid if he did.

Before he could change his mind, Pierre sat down on the ground next to Alex; the Thai driver looked at him confusedly as Pierre’s train of thoughts hit a sudden roadblock. Carefully fumbling over the words to say, Pierre spoke up, “It doesn’t hurt forever.”

“Huh?” Alex asked, not looking at Pierre but at the couple quite some distance from them. He heard what Pierre had said, the Frenchman was too close for him not to; he looked at Pierre then, seeing the sincere look on his face.

“It’s going to get better. I know from a personal experience,” he added when Alex let out a disbelieving snort.

“Charles?” Alex questioned, looking at Pierre curiously. He nodded in response, followed by a light shrug of his shoulders as Alex’s mouth formed the shape of an ‘o’.

“Like I said, it becomes easier. You learn to deal with it and after a while, it’ll go away. It’s alright to distance yourself if you feel like it’s too much; I know you’re friends with them both, but put yourself before.” Alex let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“Thanks,” he let out after a while, voice quiet but sincere.

Pierre smiled at him, placing his hand on Alex’s knee, “Anytime. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m just a phone call away. Don’t hold back.”

To his surprise, Alex put his arm around him in some sort of one-armed, side hug. Pierre returned the embrace, feeling Alex shake and began running his hand down the younger man’s back soothingly, whispering softly to him as he cried.

He could see George and Lando coming closer, obviously worried for their friend; Pierre shook his head at them, letting them know it’s better for them to go. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, arm circled around Alex until he calmed down and even after.


	12. max/pierre: the demotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for @kakkakerssi, hope you like it. not really happy, so I apologise in advance

** When Pierre told** him he had gotten the promotion to Red Bull, Max was over the moon.

He would be driving with his Pierre, filming random videos Red Bull expected of them, laughing and spending even more time than he already did with the man he devoted his life to; Max was so proud of his boyfriend, overjoyed by the news perhaps even more than Pierre himself was.

Then the season started, and it all began tumbling downhill. At one point of the first half of the season, Max thought about just _giving_ positions to Pierre, but knew it would be immensely frowned upon by the team’s upper hands. It seemed like Pierre and the car hated each other.

Most of the time, Max would be at the receiving end of Pierre’s frustrations; he was never violent but would close himself into a shell and it hurt Max, seeing Pierre so vulnerable. The first time he expressed his dejection, Max was ready to punch something.

“They’ll switch me with Alex,” Pierre said that evening, when him and Max were laying together in bed, both unable to fall asleep after another disappointing weekend; he didn’t sound sad nor angry, but just _empty._

It was as if he’d already accepted the fact that he was getting demoted, and that didn’t sit well with Max.

“They won’t,” Max assured him, trying to assure himself in the process, too; the words were spoken unconvincingly, though. “They won’t,” his voice was firmer as he repeated the words. Pierre said nothing, just cuddled closer into Max, seeking comfort Max was trying his best to give him.

Max felt Pierre dozing off to sleep, but he didn’t feel tired; his thoughts were a whirlwind, the words _it’s your fault _swimming in his mind, blinding him and causing his breathing to quicken. He felt Pierre press a kiss to his chin in his drowsy state, mumbling something incoherently.

Running his fingers through Pierre’s hair, Max stayed up for a few more hours, feeling guilt gnawing away at his gut. He tried to convince himself they would be okay, Pierre would stay with him and they would get better, Pierre would get better and Max would be there for him through it all. It all left a bitter taste in his mouth, silent tears running down his cheeks at one point as he finally managed to bring himself to fall asleep.

It was a few weeks later that Red Bull announced their drivers’ change and Max felt sick. He found Pierre sitting on the floor, phone in hand and staring at the wall with a blank expression. Max stopped in his tracks as Pierre met his gaze, the broken look in his eyes leaving Max speechless; they just looked at each other, doing nothing, saying nothing.

Then Max broke down.

He apologised, gut-wrenching sobs wrecking his body as he crawled over to Pierre. Repetitive words left his mouth, _I’m sorry, je suis désolé, het spijt me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry_ and Pierre let out a sigh, running a hand down his face as he took in his boyfriend’s state.

“Stop it,” he spoke lowly, firmly, causing Max’s breath to hitch. Pierre wasn’t looking at Max. “It was just a matter of time, Max. I told you,” he continued, feeling Max wrap his arms around his trembling body. He could feel his boyfriend kissing his cheek, lips wet from his tears.

“They’re wrong, Pierre,” Max mumbled, voice shaky and heavy. “They’re wrong to do this. They’re wrong. I’m going to go there and fight all of them, screw what they’ve got to say.” Pierre said nothing, just ran his hand down Max’s back. “I don’t want to lose you,” Max’s voice broke at the end of the sentence, and so did the dam holding back Pierre’s tears.

“You won’t lose me,” he managed to get out. “I feel so horrible. I should’ve tried better, should’ve done better.”

Max shook his head, moving around so he cold cup Pierre’s face in his hand. “Don’t do this to yourself, please. Don’t make yourself feel even worse,” Max begged, pressing his lips to Pierre’s lightly. Pierre moved away from the kiss, causing Max’s heart to shatter into a million pieces.

“I’m sorry, Max,” he whispered, moving away from the Dutchman. “I need a break. From everything,” he continued, standing up, feeling wobbly on his feet. He looked down at Max, fixated on him with such wide eyes he looked ten years younger, biting his lip to stop himself from crying even more.

“Don’t go, Pierre, _please_.”

Pierre looked at Max sadly, “I’ll come back. I love you, okay? I just need some time to myself, away from everything. Away from Red Bull.” _Away from you._

Max could only watch as Pierre left the room, phone in hand; as he was leaving, Max could hear the familiar accented voice from the other side of the line, increasing Max’s crying as he was left alone.


	13. charles/max: getting a kitten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was inspired by kakkakerssi's fic about max and pierre getting a puppy and the post that goes somewhat like 'when dads become best friends with the pet they didn't want'
> 
> co-written by my cat

** When Charles first** suggested they get a kitten, Max was completely against the idea.

He’d argued that they had no time for a pet, that it would be alone and that they weren’t prepared to take care of another living being, but from the first moment he’d heard Charles’ idea, Max just _knew_ that he wouldn’t be able to say no to his boyfriend’s puppy eyes.

Even though Max wasn’t the biggest fan of cats.

But Charles had a way of being very persuasive, having a response to everything Max said. _It could stay with my mother or brother when we’re away; it’s good practice if you ever want to have kids; Max, they’re so cute, how can you not want one?_

Max knew that, despite all of his protests, it was a lost battle from the very beginning. Not that Max minded so much, if it made Charles happy; he was just glad for the fact that Charles waited until Max agreed, albeit reluctantly, to get the little guy.

About a week into the winter break, Charles was scheduled to meet up with the local breeder. He was meeting a litter of little ragdolls and, from the photos he’d seen, Charles immediately fell in love with the fluffy kittens. He was excited.

Meeting the lady, Charles was slightly nervous, thinking things like _‘What if none of them like me?’_ and _‘What if it gets sad taken away from his brothers and sisters?’._ There was a moment he contemplated texting Max if he could take all of them but saved that for a later moment. One was enough for now.

All of his worries melted away when Charles met the kittens. He crouched on the ground and six bundles of fluff all came towards him to sniffle him, purring as he scratched their heads lightly. There was one in particular, slightly smaller than the others, who was purring like a real champ, bumping its head against Charles’ hand.

When it opened its eyes, Charles fell in love; they were such a bright blue, they reminded him of Max.

Charles knew he had found his kitten.

The lady and him arranged for him to get the kitten in three weeks, as they were still too small to get separated from their mother. When he got back home that evening, he couldn’t help but talk excitedly to Max; Max let his boyfriend ramble, thinking that maybe getting a cat wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Three weeks later, Charles went to pick Blue up. After getting all the necessary papers, signing whatever the lady needed him to sign and petting the other kittens and big cats, Charles went home with the newest addition to the family sleeping in a cat carrier in the passenger seat of his Ferrari.

He entered the flat, let Blue out of the carrier and let him explore the area on his own; Charles followed closely behind, cooing at the curiosity of the kitten. When Blue came back to Charles, bumping against his legs with his head, he picked him up and carried him to the living room.

They played for a while after that, until Max got back home. As soon as he saw his boyfriend with the biggest smile on his face, rolling a ball around for the kitten to catch, Max was glad he let Charles do this. It would be slightly weird until they got used to him, but thankfully, they were on a break and had enough time to get him properly settled.

While Charles went to cook dinner, he left Max with Blue; the kitten had taken an immediate liking for the Dutchman, licking his hand and kneading against his stomach as he put him on his lap and gently ran his fingers through the thick fur.

When Charles returned to the living room later, wanting to call Max to come and eat, he was met with the sight of Blue curled up on Max’s lap, with Max’s hand pressed against the kitten as they both fell asleep.


	14. alex/george: forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some short, wholesome and tooth-rotting tall bois for Zoë <3

** There was a **film playing in the background, but they paid it no mind.

George had his arms wrapped around Alex, chin in the crook of the older man’s neck as he pressed soft kisses on the spot just behind his ear. Alex let out a dreamy sigh, snuggling closer to George and fiddling with their intertwined fingers.

Turning his head, Alex pressed a soft kiss to George’s lips, smiling when George bumped their noses afterwards. George wrapped his arms around Alex’s middle tightly, whispering in his ear, “I’m never letting you go.”

“You’re gonna have to sometime,” Alex remarked, a loving smile on his face as he placed his hands on top of George’s. He could feel George shaking his head.

“No, never. I’m keeping you like this forever,” the younger mumbled, kissing Alex’s shoulder and hugging him tighter.

Alex wanted to comment something about George dropping rhymes but opted not to; he didn’t want to ruin the serenity of the moment. “I’d like to stay with you forever,” he said instead. “Until we’re old and wrinkled, surrounded by people we love most in the world.”

“I’m gonna hold you like this even then,” George mused. “You’ll always be the little spoon, I’m never gonna give you the right to be the big one.” Alex chuckled, breath hitching when George kissed his neck; he could feel him smiling, pressing his lips to the soft skin again.

“I don’t mind that,” Alex breathed out. He felt George’s fingers underneath his chin, urging him to turn his head. George kissed him once he did, all sweet and loving and it sent warmth down to the tips of Alex’s toes. “I’m going to love you forever, George,” he spoke between kisses, turning around completely and wrapping his arms around George’s neck.

George pulled away, pressing a kiss to the tip of Alex’s nose and agreeing, “Forever and always. Until death do us part.”


	15. carlos/lando: exhausted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> could be seen as romantic, could be seen as platonic
> 
> written ages ago but only now posted because it was supposed to be a part of something bigger

** Lando wasn’t having** a great day; truth be told, it was horrible, and the nineteen-year-old Brit wished for it to end as soon as possible. He had had another restless night, one of many in the past few months, and far too many for his liking.

After hours of twisting and turning on the soft and comfortable hotel mattress, Lando got out of the bed and went to take a shower alternating between hot and cold water to make him more awake, but it seemed like the skies have pitted against him and it ended up a scalding shower, as the handle for cold water decided to get stuck.

Once he finally got out, skin sensitive and red from getting burnt, Lando was ready to get back to bed and just remain there motionless for the remainder of the day; that, however, wasn’t possible as he had responsibilities which needed to get taken care of and he couldn’t avoid them for any longer.

The rest of the day went in a similar matter, with Lando getting hit by a fallen flagpole, burning his mouth with burning soup and cutting himself on a piece of metal sticking out of a paddock fence, getting mended by a bright, green band-aid which at least managed to lighten up his gloomy day a little.

Carlos must’ve noticed something was wrong because he invited Lando to his room for some FIFA later that day; the Brit almost declined, wanting nothing more than to crawl under the duvet and just get consumed by his exhaustion, but a part of him knew he wasn’t going to be sleeping anyway, so he accepted the invite.

When he arrived at the Spaniard’s hotel room, Lando was ready to just drop down in exhaustion then and there, but he played some FIFA against Carlos, losing every single match they played with even bigger goal differences than usual.

“What’s wrong, Lando?” asked Carlos at one point, looking at the young Brit pointedly. Lando shrugged, not really knowing how to answer.

“Just a shitty day,” he mumbled out after a while, closing his eyes and letting out a yawn. Carlos frowned, ruffling the younger boy’s hair awkwardly, but comfortingly, eliciting a content sigh before Lando snuggled into his side.

Carlos decided to just turn off the game and put on some foreign television channel livestreaming a football match; he continued rubbing Lando’s head soothingly, noticing how the younger boy’s breathing slowing down as he fell asleep.

Once his arm started aching, Carlos softly picked the youngster up and laid him under the covers of his bed before getting ready to go to bed himself; Carlos wasn’t planning on sleeping on the couch, so he just laid next to Lando, back pressed against his teammate’s, and dozed off in a matter of moments.

In the morning, he woke up to a pair of arms draped over him and smiled, letting his eyes rest for a little bit longer.


	16. charles/max: the glasses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for kakkakerssi, who requested some charles in glasses. of course it ended up being my favourite ship
> 
> not my best work, but I'm still proud of it

** Max was playing** _iRacing_ when Charles entered the room.

His eyes were glued to the screen, the wheel of the simulator gripped tight between his hands as he practiced, continuously trying to get better and better. He had his headset on, feet swift on the pedals and concentration set on what was happening in front of him.

Charles called out his name nonetheless, not expecting Max to hear anyway. The Ferrari driver shook his head with a small smile, shrugging off his blazer and draping it over the couch before going to stand behind Max. He watched as Max took every corner skilfully, swearing loudly as somebody crashed into him and he ended up in the barriers.

He still hasn’t noticed Charles, who let Max do his thing as he went to get changed in the bedroom. Dressed in a pair of sweatpants and Max’s hoodie – something only Max could ever see him wear – Charles went back to where Max was playing, deciding to keep the glasses on just to see Max’s reaction.

The Dutchman was still playing. Once he deemed it safe enough, Charles curled his arms around Max’s neck from behind and pressed a kiss to the back of his head. Max jumped at the feeling, relaxing once he realised it was Charles who was holding him.

“You scared me,” the Dutchman mumbled, taking off his headset and frowning as he felt Charles’ chest vibrate from laughter. “It’s not funny, Charles. I could’ve died.” Still laughing at his boyfriend’s obviously-joking melodramatics, Charles pressed another kiss to Max’s head before letting go of him, sitting on the floor next to the simulator as Max peered down at him curiously.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done had you died on me,” Charles replied teasingly, ruffling his hair with his fingers and smiling as he heard Max’s breath hitch. “What?” he questioned, leaning back on his palms and looking at Max.

“Nothing,” Max said, not moving his eyes from Charles and the Monègasque began blushing under his boyfriend’s intense gaze. “You just look very good with the glasses,” Max added, leaning over to touch the frame with his index finger, caressing Charles’ cheek with his thumb.

“Yeah?” Charles asked breathlessly, placing his hand over Max’s and squeezing it.

Max nodded in reply, “Yeah.” He let go of Charles and got out of the simulator, offering his hands to Charles. He pulled his boyfriend up, circling his arms around Charles and pressed a feathery kiss to his neck. Max smiled as Charles shivered.

Charles pressed his lips to Max’s eagerly, letting his hands wander over Max’s back. Max placed his hands on Charles’ lower back, moving them to his backside to hold him up as Charles wrapped his legs around Max’s waist. He carefully carried Charles to the couch, placing him under himself and breaking their kiss so he could look at Charles in wonder.

“You really look so good in them,” he whispered, breath ghosting over Charles’ face. “So perfect.”

Charles groaned, wrapping his arms around Max’s neck. “Just kiss me already,” he said, earning a chuckle from Max before their lips connected again.

Later, when they were laying together with Max drawing circles on Charles’ bicep and keeping him close, Charles said, “Maybe I should wear the glasses more often.” He felt Max’s chest vibrate with laughter and his lips press against Charles’ shoulder.

“You don’t need to wear the glasses to get me to fuck you, but they certainly help.”


	17. alex/george: surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alex and george get a kitten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for zoe, who has been asking for this since I wrote the one with max/charles (I know you secretly loved the croatian lessons)
> 
> if this is what my drabbles have come to, I don't mind
> 
> co-written by my cat (again) - who I lovingly call loaf

** Alex was just** getting into his car when he got a text from George asking when he’d be home.

_In like 10 minutes, why?_ he texted back, frowning confusedly as George said he’s got a surprise waiting for Alex. The last time George had a surprise for him, it was in the form of a life-size poster of George – _signed._

(He’d never admit it, but Alex actually stuck it to the back of their closet and was waiting for it to frighten George.)

After getting into his car, Alex drove off. He couldn’t help but think about what George had in plan for him, feeling both scared and excited at the same time; you could never know what you’d get with George and Alex couldn’t help but tighten his grip on the steering wheel, thinking of all possible outcomes of the situation.

He was out of the car as soon as he parked, rushing into the building and to their flat. Opening the door, Alex yelled out, “I’m back!” before kicking off his shoes and going to find his boyfriend. It wasn’t a hard task, as George was sitting on the floor of their living room with his back turned to Alex.

George turned around to look at him as he heard his footsteps, smiling gleefully, “Close your eyes.” Alex did as George asked him to, hearing him shuffling around. “Spread out your arms,” George ordered, and Alex complied, feeling something warm and fluffy getting put into his hands.

Even though George didn’t tell him to, Alex opened his eyes and was met with the sight of a tiny black and white kitten looking up at him with curious, green eyes. He repositioned his arms so it would feel more comfortable as he stared at George in disbelief, putting it to the ground when it began wiggling.

“You didn’t do that,” Alex spoke, earning a shrug from George. A smile broke out on Alex’s face and he pulled George into him, kissing him softly before sitting down on the floor next to the kitten and threading his fingers through its fluffy fur.

“I know you wanted a cat for the longest time, so…” George trailed off, sitting down next to Alex and moving his finger in front of the kitten, smiling as it tried to grab it.

“What’s its name?” Alex asked, looking at the animal curiously. To his amusement, George began blushing slightly before letting out a sigh and mumbling something incoherently. “Could you repeat that?”

“I said, his name is Loaf.” Alex couldn’t help it and burst into laughter, feeling George slap his shoulder lightly. “Stop laughing, you arse. Look at him and tell me he doesn’t look like a little bun!”

Alex peered at Loaf – _God, the name is ridiculous_ – and couldn’t help but agree with George. The kitten was fluffy, round and Alex had a feeling they’d be finding hairs all over the flat, but somehow, the name fit him.

“Besides, I’ve seen the rest of the litter and if the parents are anything to go by, he’ll end up looking like a proper loaf of bread in a few months,” George added. Alex just chuckled, leaning into George and pressed a light kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, intertwining his fingers with his boyfriends. George hummed, taking a toy from the ground next to them and pushed it to Loaf, grinning as the kitten crouched into hunting stance and jumped after it. “He’s so precious,” Alex cooed.

George agreed. He watched as Alex became more comfortable with the newest member of their family, laying on the carpet and letting the kitten crawl all over him. He couldn’t stop the happy smile as Loaf began kneading Alex’s chest, curling into a ball there and falling asleep.

If he was being honest, George wasn’t sure whether he found the kitten or his boyfriend cuter.


	18. charles/george: distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been listening to a lot of snow patrol lately

** Letting his eyes** shut closed, George let out a soft sigh and wiped away the stray tear threatening to spill down his cheek. Teeth scraping his bottom lip, he unlocked his phone and winced as the brightness hit him.

_02:21 AM_

Taking a deep breath, he let his fingers ghost over the background – it was a picture of him and Charles, laying together on the floor of George’s flat the last time Charles came to visit; it was taken by Alex, one of the few people he knew that the Ferrari driver and the Williams driver were together. Charles had his head tucked beneath George’s chin, arm wrapped around the younger driver with both of them wearing beaming smiles on their faces.

Unable to keep looking at the joyous image, George turned off the device and let his face press against the pillow as he tried to wrap the duvet tighter around himself, imagining it was Charles hugging him. He wished Charles was next to him.

After a while of thinking about Charles, George rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t see anything, the curtains pulled over the windows blocking the luminous glow of the moonlight from the outside; whenever Charles slept with him, he would look up in the sky before cuddling next to George.

He didn’t want to look at the stars now. They were nothing but the tiniest specks of dust when he was looking at them without Charles at his side.

His phone buzzed, illuminating the room with the harsh light and George sighed, taking it in his hand and frowning at the blurred display. It took a while for his eyes to clear and get used to the brightness, all the while George tapped the edge of his phone impatiently.

_I miss you_

Three words. Three words that brought another wave of fresh tears upon George as soon as he read them, not even opening the messenger app yet; he wiped at his eyes, cursing the blurriness that had appeared again before unlocking his phone and replying to Charles.

_I miss you, too_

His phone began flashing with Charles’ caller I.D., the image of his boyfriend smiling at George bringing him some form of comfort. Answering the video-call, George turned on the light next to his bed and got himself comfortable on his side as he waited for the call to connect.

Charles seemed to be in the same position as George, sleepily blinking at his boyfriend until he realised the call had connected and he could see George. Smiling at the Brit lightly, Charles was the first one to speak, _“Hey.”_

“Hey,” George said back, voice quiet and Charles frowned.

_“What’s wrong?”_ he questioned, worry lacing his voice. George shook his head, waving him off, and Charles exhaled through his nose. _“What’s wrong, amour?”_ he repeated, equally warm and light.

“I just miss you so much,” George responded, looking at the small rectangle holding his face instead of at Charles, unable to meet his boyfriend’s worried gaze.

Charles’ eyes softened. _“I miss you, too. I can’t wait to see you again; it feels like ages since I’ve kissed you,”_ he said. George let out a hum of agreement. _“I can’t wait until I get some free time,”_ Charles continued.

“It’s okay. You’re very busy,” George shrugged as much as his position allowed him to. “I am, too,” he added as an afterthought, earning a tiny chuckle from Charles. George swallowed, “I haven’t heard your voice in ages. I’ve missed it.”

George didn’t miss the way Charles got flustered, rubbing his free hand over his face. _“Why do we have to live so far away?”_ the Ferrari driver groaned. _“I just want to cuddle you before falling asleep. That’s all I want.”_

“You could always come and visit,” George pointed out.

Charles sighed, _“You know I can’t. My schedule is too busy and yours is, too.”_ Sadly, he was right._ “I wish I could, though. First chance I’m getting, I’m flying to London. I still haven’t been to your new place.”_

“There’s a spot next to me waiting for you,” George replied, stifling a yawn at the end of his sentence. Charles noticed.

_“Why are you still up?”_ he questioned, feeling slightly hypocritical.

George smiled, “I was thinking about you. I was missing you really badly and couldn’t fall asleep. Why are you?”

_“Same as you,”_ the Monègasque replied. He let out a yawn, too. _“Go to sleep, George. I’ll stay here and keep you company,”_ he offered.

George nodded in reply, feeling content with the idea. He motioned for Charles to wait for a few moments and opened the curtains slightly, returning to bed and making himself comfortable. Doing his best to prop his phone so that he could see Charles, George listened to his boyfriend talk.

_“Good night, George. Je t’aime.”_

Both of them fell asleep with smiles on their faces.


	19. max/charles: proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this might as well be called "zucca's lestappen-moments book" at this point
> 
> short and sweet and set in 2022

**It was the **final race of the season.

Max was leading the championship, Charles and Valtteri not far behind in points; the title was still up for the grabs and it would fall into the hands of whoever wins the Grand Prix. So far, the championship title was in the hands of the current championship leader, but his boyfriend wasn’t far behind him in the race.

He had a feeling a battle would ensue, and soon, but he was ready for it. They’ve been battling on and off track (though in slightly different ways) ever since they got together four years ago, with them coming out victors equally. One race it was Max, the other it was Charles.

It was one of the toughest and closest championships in the past few years, with three possible outcomes for the driver’s championship title. A part of Max wanted Charles to win, just so he could smother him with kisses, but the bigger, competitive part of him wanted to win just as badly, the title of the world champion sounding like a dream come true.

He also planned on proposing to Charles if the Ferrari driver won the championship. _“Can’t let him have all of the media attention,”_ Pierre teased when Max explained the plan to him. He was one of the few people who knew the two have been in a relationship since 2018, after he walked in on them making out mid-2020. They never openly came out, but they never hid their relationship too much, either.

Max was ready to win the championship, but he was also ready for Charles to win the championship. It was their time to shine, Lewis having retired after achieving his eighth world title in 2021, giving the stage to the younger drivers and their remarkable talent.

He could hear Gianpiero talking to him, but he was too focused on the track and the race. He vaguely heard him say something about Charles closing the gap each lap, but Max was ready. He was ready to fight Charles. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest at the Ferrari trying to overtake him and he closed the door on him, not letting Charles past.

Their battle lasted until the end of the race. A feeling of relief followed by a rush of excitement took over Max as he crossed the finish line in first, jumping out of the car and straight into Charles’ open arms. He went to cheer with his team, hugging his family (Victoria slipped the ring into his hand discreetly) and Christian and even Helmut before getting called to do the post-race interviews.

He was never as excited about a podium as he was in that moment. He gratefully accepted the awards, sharing a knowing smile with Pierre who was standing on his right. The anthems played and just as they were about to pop open the champagne, Max leant over to whisper in Charles’ ear.

“I was going to propose to you if you won the championship.” The look on his face was priceless and Max loved it; he discreetly took Charles’ hand in his. “Had this whole big thing planned out but now I have to change the plan,” he continued, letting Charles feel the metal of the ring as it fell from Max’s palm to Charles’.

He looked Charles straight into the eyes and whispered, quiet so that no one but the two of them could hear what they were talking about, “Will you marry me?”

A grin broke out on Charles’ face as he replied, short of breath, “Yes.” Pulling Charles into himself and kissing him there, in front of the whole world, felt better than winning the championship to Max. It was only after Pierre began spraying them with champagne that he was able to comprehend what had happened in the span of less than thirty minutes.

“I just won the championship!” he yelled out, Charles and Pierre laughing at the late reaction. Max turned to look at Charles softly, a loving smile usually only seen in the confinement of their privacy on his face, “We’re getting married, _schatje._”

Charles took his hand in his, squeezing it tightly with an equally bright grin of his own as he replied quietly, “We’re getting married.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after writing in present for the past few days, writing in past felt odd for me and it was a hard switch so if there are any misuses of tenses, I apologize


	20. charles/max: beneath the spotlight (of our bedside lamp)

**Max could feel **Charles’s gaze on him throughout the driver’s parade. It made his stomach flutter with warm, fuzzy feelings he got whenever Charles looked at him intently, both calculating and loving at the same time, aware of the effect it had on Max.

He tried to distract himself with talking to Lando and Daniel, tried not to show how giddy he felt underneath Charles’s gaze, tried to supress the soft smile from showing on his face so close to the other drivers, the fans and the media; it was no use however, and the corners of his lips tugged upwards when the Ferrari driver winked at him from where he was standing next to Kimi.

Max scolded himself for acting like a schoolboy with a crush; if someone caught wind of the relationship between him and Charles, there would be consequences that neither of them wanted to face. It hurt Max not to be able to talk to Charles out in public because it was too risky for them, with their rising careers and lives beneath the spotlight, _especially here in Abu Dhabi._

He settled for ignoring Charles out in the paddock – or at least _tried to_, but sometimes Charles would be looking so good that Max couldn’t help but look at him, wanting to shower him with compliments and affection reserved for the late nights in hotel rooms or sleepy days back in either of their flats in Monaco.

Max let out a sigh, fixing his cap where it was on top of his head; he moved his attention to Lando, who held Daniel’s own cap in his hand before throwing it away, resulting in a fit of laughter from everyone around them. Despite his conflicting thoughts, Max looked at Charles and saw that he was laughing, too, the sight too much for Max.

He joined in on the conversations surrounding him, eyes meeting the Monègasque’s every so often, making both of them avert their gazes to something else. They hoped nobody could notice the light blush staining their cheeks.

As they were getting down from the parade truck, Max felt a comforting touch on his hand. It was a miniscule action, a ghostly feeling on his skin that caused him to shiver. Charles didn’t even look at him as he passed by, though Max wasn’t blind to the smile Charles had on his face.

Max couldn’t wait to get back home to Monaco.


	21. alex/george: nothing short of cheesy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you, Zoe, for threatening me to write this because I absolutely love it and I'm feeling so soft right now
> 
> (my writing has succumbed to pure and absolute fluff, and I don't mind it one bit)

**There was something** akin to dread starting up at the bottom of Alex’s gut.

The square, black box in his pocket felt heavy like a tonne of bricks and he swore his heartbeat and thoughts could be heard in a mile radius. He eyed George, beautiful as always, sitting on the other side of the picnic blanket they’ve placed over the dewy, dusk-illuminated grass.

It was a cheesy setting, truly, even for Alex’s standards – and _he_ was known for being cheesy as hell. Their friends never let him hear the end of it, George continuously getting exasperated (in a loving way, though) by Alex’s tiny gestures of affection.

Still, nothing could beat proposing to your boyfriend on a picnic in a field of flowers while you’re watching the sun set.

Alex was watching George, skin shining beneath some of the last rays of the summer sun, the golden colour enhancing the blue in his eyes. Alex was completely and utterly enamoured by George, especially when their eyes met, and the younger man’s cheeks burnt bright pink beneath Alex’s gaze.

“What?” George mumbled, putting a strawberry into his mouth and chewing lightly. His voice was nothing more than a whisper, but Alex could hear him perfectly nonetheless; he could probably hear him in the loudest of rooms, able to recognize his voice in a sea of others.

Alex shook his head lightly, smiling softly to himself as he replied, “Nothing.” George frowned, picking up another strawberry, though this time offering it to Alex, who accepted the fruit and stuffed it into his mouth, trying his best not to let his nerves show.

They fell into silence again, Alex not taking his eyes off of George. He wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers, accidentally touching the ring box causing his breath to hitch. George heard and looked at him quizzically, but Alex just brushed him off.

It wasn’t until later that Alex managed to find the missing bit of courage. “I need to ask you something,” he said to George, whose mind immediately went to the darkest of places – Alex could see it in the way his eyes widened in fear. “It’s nothing bad,” he assured, looking at the ground somewhat sheepishly, “I just don’t know exactly how to do it.”

“Just ask,” George replied, taking Alex’s hand in his and rubbing soft circles on the back of it comfortingly. He placed his other hand under Alex’s chin, lifting his face so that Alex could see the loving look in his eyes.

Alex took a deep breath, the string of words falling from his lips in one go, “You don’t even know how much you’ve changed my life. These past years have been the happiest I’ve ever been and it’s all because of you, honestly. I’m so in love with you and I keep dreaming of us, together even when we’re all old and wrinkly and there’s nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you because I love you with all my heart and-”

His word vomit got broken by George kissing him; Alex could taste the remaining sweetness of strawberries George had been eating. “Slow down,” George murmured against his lips, “I can barely understand what you’re saying.”

They kept their foreheads pressed close, breaths mingling together. Alex swallowed a gulp. “What I’ve been trying to say is… I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t want this to end and…” he trailed off, distancing himself from George. “This was supposed to go differently,” the sentence was spoken to himself, but George heard him and chuckled, amusement clear on his face.

“What do you want me to do?” he questioned.

Alex stood up and pulled George to his feet, too. “Stand here,” Alex ordered, taking another deep breath. George shook his head in amusement, the chuckle in his throat dying at the sight of Alex kneeling before him. “What I’ve been trying to say is: I love you with everything I am. I can’t imagine my future without you.”

George brushed his hand against Alex’s cheek, already whispering _‘Yes’ _before Alex even got the box out of his pocket. Alex shook his head, shushing him quietly before presenting George with the ring, a look of pure adoration in his eyes as he asked, “George Russell, will you marry me?”

Before the words were fully out of his mouth, George had already replied with a chorus of, “Yes, yes, I will. Of course, I will, I love you so much.” Alex felt a tear of joy slide down his cheek as he put the silver band on George’s left hand, kissing it to seal the deal.

George pulled him up to his feet, crashing their lips together and Alex was nothing short of overjoyed as he held George in his arms, the golden glow of the setting sun falling softly over them.


	22. max/alex: blackmail

**It wasn’t supposed** to go like this.

He was supposed to come out on his own terms, if he ever did, when he wanted and when he felt ready. He was supposed to wait until Alex felt ready, too, and they were supposed to do it together, like the couple they were.

But that opportunity had been taken away from them, and Max didn’t know how to cope.

Glaring at the mustard-coloured envelope, Max felt sick. He put his head in his hands and tugged at his hair, letting out a painful sigh that turned into a full-on cry as the menacing piece of paper fell from his lap and onto the floor of his driver’s room.

He put his knees beneath his chin, hugging his legs with his arms as tears streamed down his cheeks; if his father saw him like that, he would’ve had a fit. Max continued sobbing, the words written on the letter swimming in front of his eyes, taunting him.

_I’m going to ruin you._

Max’s breath hitched in his throat and he began coughing, hitting at his chest with his hand to cease the choking feeling. His hands were shaking as he tried to wipe away the tears from his cheeks, accidentally scratching himself and wincing in pain.

_You’re going to wish you never signed for Red Bull._

Another painful sob escaped him; he pressed his nails against the palms of his hands, leaving tiny red indents. Max knew he needed to call somebody, tell them what had happened, but he didn’t have the strength to do so. He knew he had to tell Alex, but he was afraid.

What would Alex do if he found out? Max was the one who dragged him into this mess, against his will. Hell, Max got dragged into a mess against his will, too, but the person who threatened him had a vendetta against _him,_ not against Alex. The envelope was addressed to _Max Verstappen._

_One wrong move and I’ll have this leaked to the press._

With the letter were pictures. Of course there were pictures, otherwise the person wouldn’t take the time of their day to try and blackmail him. Words were just words, but photos were _proof_. Max didn’t even know how the person got them.

The first one had Max pressed up against Alex a little too close for it to be deemed as just friendly; it was from one of the races from the beginning of the season and Max could remember being careful, but clearly he wasn’t careful enough. The second one had them holding hands beneath a table as they ate breakfast in the hospitality.

The third one was the one that brought panic out of Max. He had his arms wrapped around Alex, _inside of Max’s driver’s room,_ and they were in the middle of a kiss. He wasn’t sure how someone got a photo like that, but it was frightening.

His quickened breathing and gasps for air filled the room. There was a crash, and a scream, and the sound of somebody breaking open the door. He could vaguely remember a pair of hands wrapping around his own and leading him somewhere, his feet working on their own will.

_“Let’s get you sorted, okay?” _someone spoke. The world was a blur in front of his eyes, shapes of people and faces mangled together. He could only see the words in his head, written in stark black colour against the white sheet of paper that had been crumpled from how hard he was holding it.

_Watch your back, Verstappen._

_I’m coming for you._


	23. daniil/pierre: белые камелии

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what this is, I just wanted to write daniil
> 
> russian written in latin alphabet because it can be, though it's informal

**Daniil watched. **

One of the most observant people in the paddock, he watched and noticed, and he was one of the very few who could read people like an open book. Perhaps it was the Russian thing. It had to be.

Back in 2016, he knew he was getting demoted before Marko knew it himself; he’d seen it in the weary looks he’d gotten from the boss, the constant urging to do more, _do better,_ even though he didn’t know how. _Eto neizbezhno, Dasha._

It really was unavoidable. He wasn’t surprised. Disappointed, yes, but never surprised. Perhaps it was for the better, in the long run; Max excelled at what he did, Daniil had more time to work out the issues he had with himself and he’d come back, better than ever, and even managed to score a podium in his year backing in Formula 1.

He had Alex as his teammate, at first. Daniil noticed the looks. Everybody had their eyes on the new kid in town, the rookie, and Daniil was left in peace for the time being. There were times when he’d catch Alex staring, trying to figure him out, but Daniil didn’t let that faze him. He did what he did in the best way he could.

Germany had to be the best weekend of his life. He scored the podium that had to secure his future. Penelope was born, making him one of the happiest people on Earth. Everything was going well for him, for once in his life.

_Gordis' soboy, Dasha. Zhizn' ne tak uzh i plokha._

Daniil observed as everything around him crumbled to the ground. It was bound to touch him someday, but he never expected to be hit straight in the face by a force named Pierre Gasly that had been thrown back to the dogs after the summer break. A small part of Daniil wanted to laugh because, _another one of Marko’s children felt the true nature of the man._

He didn’t pity Pierre. Pierre didn’t want him to pity him. If there was something Daniil realized, it was that Pierre was one hell of a man. He didn’t beat around the bush, didn’t give any indication that what had happened had hit him hard; Daniil could see beneath the mask, though.

Of course he could.

He’s Russian.

That’s why he started checking up on Pierre. It wasn’t of his usual nature, obviously leaving the Frenchman confused; Pierre had even asked him if he’s fine, but Daniil just cracked a smile as he replied, _“I’ve not been okay for a while now.”_

It became a mutual thing after then. Few random texts here and there, praises of good performances and cheering up after bad. Pierre was there when Kelly left him, making sure Daniil didn’t lose himself in the process of losing the mother of his child – and baby P with her, too.

“I’m doing okay, Pierre, you don’t have to check up on me,” Daniil would say, though his hands would be shaking, and his eyes would be glazed over. Pierre would just shake his head at his friend, looking at him sadly.

Daniil always saw through Pierre, could see the hidden thoughts running through his head, just by looking at him. He knew when Pierre wanted to say something and stopped him before he could get a word out; they were polar opposites, one of them closed off and the other open like a book.

It’s how Daniil knew. He could see it in Pierre, noticed the lingering looks and sad smiles, the proud looks when he managed to make him laugh. For all his observation skills, Daniil didn’t know how to approach the situation he wasn’t feeling opposed to.

He left white camellias in front of Pierre’s driver’s room.


	24. max/charles: with your love, your love, I'm a better, better man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- written for @challelercsupermax who requested something inspired by the song 'better man' by 5 seconds of summer; sorry it's kinda short, I'm gonna write you something better, I promise <3

**The feeling of **serenity descended upon them. Charles was asleep, hair all tousled, and lips parted as he snored lightly, making one of the cutest sights Max had ever laid his eyes upon. The Dutchman was propped up on his side, eyes soft as he observed his boyfriend.

He ran his hand down the side of Charles’s face gently, smiling softly at the way he scrunched up his nose in his sleep. _I don’t deserve him,_ Max thought, his smile getting replaced by a look of bitterness and self-contempt.

Max knew he wasn’t that good of a person; he wasn’t _bad _by definition, but he wasn’t _good,_ either. He’d made mistakes, he had issues and yet, Charles still loved him unconditionally and never failed to express it. Charles was_ good,_ not Max.

Most of Max’s self-loathing came from his days before Charles, when he was out every weekend, getting completely hammered and leaving home with different people each night. Reputation began following him wherever he went, random women and men flocking the _youngest Formula 1 driver_ and letting their praises get to his head.

Then Charles came into his life, sudden but strong, like a hurricane, and he left Max breathless. _“Are you drunk?”_ Charles questioned when Max asked him out, the sentence swimming in Max’s head for days afterwards along with a sense of bitterness.

He’d argued with both Pierre and Daniel. They were worried about Charles, wanted him to have nothing to do with Max; even Daniel, who considered Max one of his friends, didn’t want him to get close to Charles for fear of him ending up with a broken heart.

It’s what got him to clean up his act. Stop partying, stop drinking, stop sleeping around. _Show him you care for him or you’ll never get him._

Max wanted him.

And somehow, Max got him.

Charles stirred from his slumber, blinking a few times before taking Max’s hand in his. “I can hear your thoughts to here,” he mumbled, voice drowsy with sleep. “Come,” he gently pulled Max closer to himself, running his hand through his hair.

Max let out a sigh, letting himself be smothered even though he didn’t feel like he deserved it. Charles tugged at his hair, making Max meet his eyes. “Don’t overthink, Max. Let yourself enjoy this,” Charles whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Max’s forehead.

“I don’t know why you’re with me,” replied Max. Charles circled his arms around him tightly, nuzzling his neck. “You’re so amazing.”

“You’re pretty amazing, too,” Charles said, smiling when Max closed his eyes contently. “You know I love you a lot, right?” he whispered in Max’s ear, “I’m going to stay by your side. I’m not going anywhere, Max.”

Max didn’t even realize a tear slid down his cheek until Charles wiped it away, kissing the top of his head affectionately. He fell asleep to the feeling of Charles’s arms wrapped around him, the sound of his heartbeat calming the storm inside his head.


	25. pierre/max: so close but so far away

**Pierre sighed, closing** his eyes as he turned to the other side of the bed.

Next to him, Max was asleep. He had his back turned to the Frenchman, not touching him with one piece of his body, and that knowledge hurt Pierre more than anything Max ever could’ve said to him.

He was used to it, though.

It was always like that.

They’d sleep together. He’d let Max to whatever he wanted, eager just to get a glimpse of his attention. Once he was satisfied, Max would say, “You can stay if you want,”, turn on his side and fall asleep, not sparing Pierre a second glance.

Pierre looked at him; truly, deeply looked at him. _Is it worth it?_ he asked himself, letting out a light sigh and trying to settle his scrambled thoughts. Sleep was something he wasn’t getting during the nights, especially those spent by Max’s side.

Perhaps Charles was right in calling him pathetic. _“He’s going to ruin you, Pierre, and you’re letting him willingly,”_ he’d say, nothing but worry lacing his words. Pierre would usually shrug, not replying with anything but a sad look. Charles would get frustrated and leave.

Pierre would stay alone.

He was always alone.

Unless he was with Max. With Max, he felt alive, as if he had a purpose.

It was short-lived, and left Pierre feeling emptier than before.

He never said no, though.

He didn’t know how.

Pierre settled on his side of the bed, eyes wide open as he listened to the sound of Max sleeping right next to him, so close but so far away.


	26. pierre/max: cuddles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- written for @kakkakerssi, who wanted pierre to get some heartwarming love <3
> 
> \- I relate to max on a personal level

**Shaking his head** at Max, Pierre continued working on his laptop. They were laying in bed, Pierre with his laptop on his lap and Max by his side, scrolling on his phone up until ten minutes ago.

For the past ten minutes, Max had been demanding cuddles and, while he wouldn’t usually object to them, Pierre was too busy going over a bunch of things for the upcoming season with his team. He let out a sigh as Max pressed his finger into his ribs.

Ignoring Max’s attempts, he continued typing. Max frowned, poking him again and Pierre mistyped a word because of it. With a twitch of his eye, he deleted the typo and continued, prepared for the next time Max would attempt to get his attention.

“Stop that,” Pierre said when Max poked him for the third time, pouting like a child for getting scolded. “I have work to do, you know that. We can cuddle later,” he promised, taking Max’s hand in his and pressing a kiss to it before he returned back to the data he had on his screen.

_“We can cuddle later,”_ he heard Max mock him, but with no real malice behind his words. Pierre chuckled at his boyfriend’s antics, especially when Max continued grumbling, “Who says I’ll want to cuddle later, huh? I should just get a dog; it’d want to cuddle whenever.”

“We can get a dog and we can cuddle after I finish, okay? Just let me do this,” Pierre rolled his eyes fondly. Max let out a sigh, but nodded, cuddling into Pierre’s side nonetheless. He began drawing circles on the side of Pierre’s thigh with his hand, moving up to his bare arm lightly.

His touch was featherlight and Pierre’s breath hitched, goosebumps rising at the feeling of Max’s finger ghosting over his skin. “Feels good, yeah?” Max mumbled, pressing a kiss to Pierre’s shoulder and lingering.

“Max, I’m trying to work,” Pierre scolded again, but Max just hummed in response.

“You just do what you need to do,” he hummed against the skin of Pierre’s neck, licking a stripe and grinning when Pierre let out a strangled noise. “Don’t let me stop you,” he continued, letting his hand ghost over Pierre’s arm again.

“I hate you,” Pierre muttered, shutting the laptop closed and placing it on the bedside table before turning to Max. He pinned Max against the mattress, kissing him lazily and Max responded immediately, eager as ever. “You’re so annoying,” he spoke between kisses.

“I love you, too,” Max responded teasingly, pulling Pierre on top of him completely. They shifted until they were laying side by side, pressed against each other with Pierre running his fingers through Max’s hair and Max running his down Pierre’s spine. Max closed his eyes contently, letting out a satisfied nose.

“Are you happy now?” Pierre asked, pressing a kiss to Max’s forehead and pulling him in closer; Max snuggled like a koala, clutching tightly and letting himself be spooned and held tightly.

“Very,” Max replied, speaking the words against Pierre’s chest. Pierre snorted, shaking his head at his boyfriend and tugging at his hair lightly. “Hey!” Max protested, not moving an inch from his position.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it,” Pierre whispered in Max’s ear teasingly, breath hot on the side of Max’s face. Max groaned, pulling himself tighter against his boyfriend and closing his eyes, grinning when Pierre pressed another kiss to the top of his head.

Pierre could feel Max beginning to doze off and his lips tugged into a fond smile. Threading his fingers through Max’s hair, he felt the peacefulness lulling him into sleep, too.


	27. max/charles: don't fly too close to the sun, icarus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 500 words of metaphors that have been digging into my brain for hours begging to be written

**The scorch of** the burning sun felt inviting, warm like an old woman calling her grandchild into the house for some freshly baked cookies on a midsummer day; the soft melody of a top 100 summer strut sung about a long-time lover filled the quiet, its sweet sound evoking in them nothing but the feeling of complete serenity as they laid on a private, golden beach with nothing but the sun and each other.

Beneath the blanket they’ve laid out on the sand, they could feel grains and a few misplaced pebbles digging into their skin, but they paid them no mind. For the first time in a while, they had the possibility of freedom and could be who they were and who they were destined to be – two idealist lovers far away the harsh cynicism of the world they were brought up in.

On that beach, far away from any form of civilisation, there was no one to judge them for who they were. They could hold each other tightly, show each other what they were missing in the time they’ve spent apart; they could, but they didn’t, for the reality of them was far more different than the reality of most and, after months of being apart, the feeling of each other was far more unfamiliar than they’d anticipated. Instead of coddling one another, they observed.

Max couldn’t move his eyes from the carefully sculpted body, basked in sunlight and golden like honey. Resisting the urge to take him then and there, he let his eyes roam, stop on every cerise and line, every dimple and freckle that littered his boyfriend’s torso; Charles looked like a god underneath the sun, eyes hidden behind his Ray Bans yet Max could still feel them on himself.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Charles so carefree, a lazy smile playing on his lips as he eyed Max with fondness reserved only for him. Falling into his urges, Max inched closer until they were next to one another, and placed his fingers over Charles’s heart. His skin burnt Max’s fingertips from the heat of the sun, yet he paid the feeling no mind.

Charles was like Apollo, a beauty glowing golden under the sunlight and engulfing Max with his warmth until he was nothing but melted ice cream on a twelve o’clock concrete of a bustling seaside town. Often Max wondered how he was the one chosen by the god of the sun to keep him company during his days on the ground, before he’d be gone back to Olympus with the rest of the gods and Max was left a mere commoner on the lonely beach.

Perhaps Max was Icarus, flying too close to the sun and bound to meet the surface when his wings made of wax melted from its scorch. Max was ready to fly and die trying, if it meant feeling the golden glow on his skin and the warm fingers of Apollo intertwined with his.


	28. max&charles: unrequited love ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've realized earlier today I've never written them platonically
> 
> enjoy this mess fuelled by caffeine and less than three hours of sleep :-)

**There was no** mistaking Charles’s feelings for Pierre.

Even a blind man could see how painfully smitten the Ferrari driver was for his friend; it could be seen in the longing gazes towards the azure-coloured garage whenever he found himself in the vicinity, the _urge_ to make Pierre laugh whenever they were together, the unmistakably obvious ways of trying to get Pierre to notice him.

But he never did.

And Charles was left a mess, hidden beneath the PR-façade that had been instilled in him since a very young age, the face of a joyous persona masking the true grievance beneath. Everything from the way his hands would unwillingly clench at the sight of Pierre with _literally anybody else _to the small, barely noticeable gestures exposed what he held in himself – has been holding in for years now.

Of course, people noticed. It was like everybody except for Pierre knew of the feelings Charles harboured for him, the Frenchman himself completely oblivious; even if he had known, that wouldn’t have changed anything, as he held nothing similar for the Monègasque.

Max had accidentally walked in on Pierre and Daniil once; there had been a beat of surprise, followed by rushed apologies and long, heart-to-heart conversations. When Max asked if Charles knew of the secret relationship, Pierre was quick to deny, _“No, he doesn’t. Why do you ask?”_

And Max let out a sigh, resisting the urge to smack some sense into Pierre, make him see how Charles looked at him with eyes full of adoration, yet he knew that would change nothing. There was no way to make two people fall in love, no matter how much one adored the other. If Pierre had his eyes for somebody else, Max would only be wasting his time and breaking Charles’s heart even more in the process.

The familiar sense of guilt ate away at his guts, as he was suddenly found between two fires, both burning equally at his sides, and Max could just watch them devour everything in front of them. He bit his lip to stop himself from spilling out the biggest known secret of the paddock. _“You should tell him. It could only hurt him if you keep secrets from him,” _he said instead, the vague answer causing Pierre to frown.

_“Why do you care?”_ Pierre had asked, narrowing his eyes at Max both questioningly and threateningly.

For the first time in forever, Max felt the need to lie as he replied, _“I don’t.”_

He did care, as much as he didn’t want to admit it; he cared far too much and for reasons he didn’t understand himself, yet he could do nothing but watch as they spiralled out of control in front of his very eyes, two opposite sides crashing at the middle, where he stood chained. Caught between two armadas, Max could only watch them from the side-lines; by doing that, though, he was already doing more than anybody else.

Pierre didn’t believe him, but said nothing in response, leaving Max alone with his battling thoughts.

A few days later, Max caught sight of Pierre talking to Charles. The Frenchman met his eyes, the gaze in his own unmistakable, and Max stopped in his tracks, awaiting the inevitable fallout. He could see the exact moment Charles’s eyes fell, the tiny jerk of his bottom lip as he nodded to whatever Pierre was telling him.

Something tugged at Max’s heartstrings as he watched Charles excuse himself, leaving behind a baffled-looking Pierre; the Red Bull driver shook his head at his friend’s visible confusion, not wanting to explain what Charles was most likely too afraid to do himself. Instead, he set out to find his rival where he had run off to.

Sitting down next to Charles, Max said nothing. The Ferrari driver wasn’t crying, wasn’t shaking or yelling or breaking things; he wasn’t doing anything except for staring in front of himself, a layer of gloss covering his eyes and an otherwise emotionless look on his face.

“Did you know?” Charles asked out of the blue, after they had settled into the feeling of peacefulness. Max nodded in response, earning a sigh from the Monègasque. “Of course you did. It’s why you told him to tell me, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Max replied, “You should know, even if it feels like the worst thing at the moment. He’s blind to everything but _him._”

“I know,” Charles sounded resigned, a sigh following his response. He slumped back further, clenching and unclenching his fist at his side. Max observed him from his peripheral vision, not knowing what else to say.

If it wasn’t for the choked-out sob Charles let out, Max probably wouldn’t have noticed he began crying. Pursing his lips, Max wrapped an arm around Charles’s shoulders and pulled him into himself, soothingly rubbing his back like it was done to him a year ago.

“It gets easier,” he whispered, thinking about this time last year when it was him in Charles’s situation. Swallowing a lump that suddenly formed in his throat, Max continued, “Trust me, it does. You deserve someone who wants you, and if Pierre isn’t that person, he isn’t. That doesn’t mean you won’t ever find them.”

“It hurts,” Charles sobbed against Max, clutching onto him like a koala bear.

Max’s heart clenched at the sight as he replied, “I know it does, Charles. I know it does.”


	29. charles/max: white china

**A plate shattered.**

Kneeling on the hardwood floor, Charles began picking up the white pieces of China his mother had been gifted ages ago. One tiny piece cut him on the finger, and he winced, carefully taking the others to the bin and throwing them away.

Max was still standing where Charles left him, neither of them daring to look at the other. The silence that had engulfed them felt suffocating, and Charles found himself wanting to open the window; if it wasn’t for the fact that they were screaming at each other moments before, he most likely would’ve.

Instead, he reached for the sink and cleaned the cut underneath the cold water, silently hissing when it touched the wound. He could feel Max’s eyes turn towards him, following his every move like a predator. There were so many things Charles wanted to say but couldn’t find it in himself to voice.

In the end, he opted for saying nothing. It was probably for the better; criticism would only be met with more shouting, and Charles’ throat already felt sore enough. He felt as though silence was enough of a punishment in itself.

He brushed Max’s shoulder as he passed by, only to be stopped by two fingers wrapping around his wrist. Looking at Max, Charles raised his eyebrow questioningly, _daringly._ Max seemed ready to say something, but instead he just shut his mouth and let go of Charles.

Tugging his wrist free, Charles rolled his eyes. His head felt heavy as he turned around, leaving the room and shrugging on his coat. Max’s footsteps sounded through the space as he followed Charles around like a puppy; in the hallway mirror, Charles could read the guilt on Max’s face.

With his hand hovering over the doorknob, Charles hesitated. With one last shake of his head, he cussed himself in his mind and opened the door; stepping out should’ve probably felt relieving, should’ve brought him peace he so desperately needed.

It only made him feel shattered, like his mother’s white China plate he had thrown to the kitchen floor in desperation.


	30. alex/george: football matches and sprained ankles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for Zoe; I'm sorry I've been neglecting you and this ship <3

**Whoever thought getting** bunch of drivers into a football match was a good idea had to think twice.

From its start, it was pure chaos with the majority of them not taking it seriously and annoying those few that were. At one point, George was sure Lando would be getting murdered by at least five people from both teams for not playing properly.

George himself was somewhere in the middle. He played as if he was with his friends (which he kind-of was), sticking to the midfield and trying his best to create some chances; playing in the middle of the field, between both the attack and the defence made him the target of the opposing team.

It was his own (racing) teammate who slide-tackled him and, since Nicholas wasn’t that skilled of a defender, startled George and had him topple onto the ground. The Brit found himself laying on the pitch with a circle starting to form around him; when he rolled onto his back, he began laughing and the others dispersed.

Only Alex remained close by, offering George his hand to help and pull him up. Once he was standing, the Brit smiled at his friend brightly and said, “Thanks.”

He swore he could see blush form on Alex’s cheeks, but signed that off as him getting hot from running around. They continued standing to the side and awkwardly looking at each other for a while, George’s hand still in Alex’s until Lando shouted from the bench (where he’d been physically dragged by Max after the Dutchman had enough of his antics), “Hey, lovebirds! The game is still on!”

Letting go of Alex’s hand as if he was burnt, George showed Lando the finger before running back into the game. His cheeks continued burning for a while after.

George should’ve known something else was bound to happen, with how the game has been going since the beginning. He should’ve been prepared for his foot to twist just as he was about to shoot at the opposing team’s goal; because of the sudden pain, he fell to the grass for the second time in less than twenty minutes, this time with a shout of pain.

Feeling a sense of deja-vu as other drivers circled around him again, George tried to straighten his ankle but to no avail. “Shit, is it broken?” Max questioned as he kneeled down next to him, checking it over (though George doubted he had much medical experience, he was grateful).

“I don’t think so,” the Brit replied, face twisting in pain as he tried to move it. “It’s just sprained, but badly,” he added, gripping his leg with his hand tightly.

“Are you good to stand?” Alex asked him worriedly. George nodded reluctantly; he was proved wrong as Alex slowly got him to his feet for him to almost topple down, had it not been for his friend catching him by his waist. “Come on, I’ll help you to the med centre,” Alex said, supporting George’s weight almost fully.

Someone else went to help him, but George waved off the help, “It’s just a sprained ankle, it’s nothing serious. I can walk by myself.”

“You could make it worse,” Alex argued, “Plus, you don’t know if it’s just sprained. It could be broken for all you know, you mug.”

“It’s not a big deal,” George tried to fight back, but Alex was persistent. The others watched their exchange with amused looks on their faces, and Lando wolf-whistled when Alex had enough of George’s struggling and picked him up bridal-style. “Put me down!”

“Stop struggling, we’re both gonna fall,” Alex said instead of replying to George’s requests. George let out a sigh but stopped struggling after a few minutes; absentmindedly, he snuggled up against Alex, to his surprise. “George?” he asked, earning a hum from the Brit, “Are you alright?”

George let out an affirming noise, followed by, “Why?”

“Because you’re kinda sniffing me,” Alex replied.

George didn’t move from his position as he said, with his smile hidden against Alex’s chest, “No, I’m fine. Just got a sprained ankle.”


	31. charles/max: simulator fun (for one of the parties)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max wanted to play iRacing. Charles had other ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was the dirties thing I've written. that's what self-isolating does to a person
> 
> stay safe <3

**As soon as** he’d seen the mischievous look on Charles’ face after he mentioned playing _iRacing_ with Lando, Max knew Charles was up to something. The sparkle in his eye that showed up as soon as the words left Max’s mouth was one he’d seen many times before, but it usually ended with Max’s food getting over-salted or his Red Bulls getting shaken.

He wasn’t expecting Charles to circle his arms around the back of his seat and over Max’s front as Max entered qualifying for the race. Pressing a kiss to the back of Max’s neck, Charles whispered, “I’m bored.”

Max spared him a glance from his peripheral vision. “I’ve got a race to do. We’ll do whatever you want afterwards,” he promised, careful not to press the push-to-talk button on his steering wheel. Lando was live-streaming on Twitch meaning Max was careful more than usual.

“But where’s the fun in that?” There was a playful tinge in Charles’ voice that had Max internally groaning, knowing his boyfriend was up to no good. Instead of doing anything drastic, Charles tightened his grip around Max’s middle and watched as he set a pole lap-time. “Good job,” Charles murmured against the skin of Max’s neck, earning a shiver from his boyfriend.

He could hear Lando’s voice through Max’s headphones. Charles chucked at the light stutter in Max’s voice as he replied to whatever Lando had asked him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder-blade and licking the spot. Trailing feathery kisses to Max’s jaw and watching him focus on the screen with his hands gripping the steering wheel of the simulator so tightly his knuckles turned white brought Charles more satisfaction than he’d anticipated.

“I’m going to kill you,” Max threatened breathlessly once he stopped his conversation with Lando. Charles just murmured in agreement, unclasping his hands from where they were connected over Max’s front and letting them fall down to his thighs.

He let his fingers roam over Max’s leg, coming dangerously close to Max’s dick but moving away every single time. Charles had a feeling Max would end up actually murdering him once he’s done with the race but messing with him was too much fun for Charles to pass.

If it meant dying, then so be it.

Letting his hand fall to the bulge in Max’s sweatpants earnt him a sharp intake of breath. As he slowly groped him through the fabric, Charles could see Max’s concentration wearing off and his driving becoming more sloppier every second.

He could hear Lando ask, _“Mate, are you okay?”_ through Max’s headphones.

Nuzzling Max’s neck before slowly nipping at it earnt Charles a content murmur from his boyfriend. “I’m not feel—fuck!” Max began, cursing when Charles’ fingers wrapped around him tightly. Charles let go of him, murmuring a praise when Max managed to get his thought out, “I’m not feeling that well. I think I’ll sign off after the race.”

Charles raised his eyebrow at Max suggestively, stroking him again painfully slow. He watched as Max’s concentration fell away again, eventually ending with him putting his car into the barriers as Charles laughed behind him; he could hear Lando’s voice through the headphones asking Max what happened, but Max just told him he was leaving.

Once he signed off, Charles let go of him. Max glared at Charles – though he could see the look on his face was pure arousal instead of actual malice – as Charles blinked at him innocently, a playful smile tugging on his lips.

“You’re horrible,” Max said, voice threateningly low. “You’re actually horrible,” he repeated.

Charles shrugged before circling his arms around Max’s middle, pressing them close together as he connected his lips with Max’s and whispered, “You know you love me, baby.”

“Debatable,” Max responded, slipping his hands under Charles’ t-shirt and letting them roam over his back and front before settling them over Charles’ abdomen. Charles let out a content sound as Max connected his lips to his neck, pressing sloppy kisses accompanied by tiny bites that earnt him small whines.

When Charles moaned his name, Max hummed questioningly. “I want you. _Now,”_ Charles said urgently.

Max chuckled against the skin of his neck before moving his lips so that his breath was hitting the side of Charles’ face. As he bit at his earlobe, he knew he hit a nerve. “You want me now, huh?” Max questioned amusedly, earning a breathy confirmation from Charles.

Charles had a feeling Max wouldn’t be letting him off the hook easily. His suspicions were confirmed when he felt Max’s breath hot on his ear, whispering, “Tough luck, sweetheart. We’ve got all night.”


	32. pierre/charles: i need your comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pierre is sad. charles runs him a bath

** Pierre can hear** Charles’s light footsteps as he walks through the flat.

He’s lying on their bed, eyes set on the ceiling. The room is dark – too dark for Pierre’s liking – but he doesn’t feel like turning on the light; Charles can do it when he comes in, _if he comes in. _

As though he heard Pierre’s running thoughts, the footsteps stop in front of their bedroom door before it opens. Pierre can see Charles’s silhouette from his position on the bed as his eyes move from their initial target, meeting Charles’s instead.

Charles is quiet as he comes towards the bed and sits on the edge of the mattress, dipping it with his weight. He doesn’t say anything as he runs a hand through Pierre’s hair softly, comfortingly, as though Pierre would break under a slightly harder touch.

Pierre doesn’t like the silence.

He doesn’t do anything to break it.

Gratitude fills him when Charles does.

“Do you need anything?” His voice is quiet and soft as he asks, as though he’d scare Pierre away if he raised his voice in the slightest. Pierre isn’t sure he wouldn’t.

A headshake.

Charles nods. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

Nothing. Everything.

_Anything._

Pierre shrugs because he doesn’t know.

Charles nods again. “I’m going to run you a bath. Is that okay?” he asks, despite knowing Pierre would say yes to anything he proposes. He waits for Pierre’s sign of approval, and when he gets it, he presses a kiss to Pierre’s forehead before leaving to the bathroom.

Pierre stares at the ceiling.

He can hear the water running in the bathroom. His muscles ache, but he ignores the feeling.

Five minutes pass before he can hear Charles walking to the bedroom again. The door is open, and Pierre doesn’t look his way when Charles comes in. He doesn’t struggle when Charles picks him up and carries him to the bathroom, as though he’s weightless.

Charles slowly undresses him, touch light as it skims over Pierre’s milky skin. Pierre shivers involuntarily.

Charles pretends not to notice.

Pierre gets into the bath by himself, leaving space behind him for Charles. “Are you sure?” Charles asks, voice hesitant.

“Yes.” Pierre’s voice is quiet, scratchy from not speaking for hours.

The water is hot. It feels good on his skin.

In his peripheral vision, he sees Charles taking off his clothes. He doesn’t look.

When Charles’s hands tie themselves around his waist, Pierre snuggles into his boyfriend’s chest. Charles says nothing as he soothingly runs his fingers down Pierre’s stomach and legs, pressing soft kisses to the nape of Pierre’s neck.

It’s quiet between them for a while, the only sounds coming from the moving water.

Then, a soft murmur.

“I love you.”

Pierre can feel Charles’s erection pressing against his back.

He knows Charles is pretending it isn’t there.

Pierre is grateful.

He’s hard himself.

Charles knows.

“Touch me, please,” he begs, voice cracking.

“Okay,” Charles whispers. He lets his fingers trail down Pierre’s body. “Are you sure?” he asks again, because he has to make sure.

Pierre nods frantically.

Charles kisses the back of his neck as his fingers circle around the head of Pierre’s dick. He feels Pierre turn to putty under his touch, body going slack against Charles’s chest.

It takes a few minutes before Pierre is gone.

He comes with a moan.

Charles cradles him gently through his orgasm.

Pierre slowly starts to rock against Charles. He puts his hands on Pierre’s hips and stills him. “You don’t have to,” he says, seeing in Pierre that he’s exhausted.

“But-”

“It’s okay.” Charles cracks a smile. “It’ll go away soon enough.”

Pierre nods.

He slots himself back against Charles, snuggling deeper into his chest. Charles just hugs him from behind and holds him there. Despite being slightly disgusted, neither of them wants to move.

They stay in the bath until Pierre falls asleep.

The water turns cold.


	33. pierre/daniil: pandas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- this is short and quite badly written, but I was watching pierre's live and he looked adorable talking about pandas and so I had to write this

**Daniil trails after** Pierre through the entrance gate of the Ueno Zoo in Tokyo, hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket. His eyes follow the Frenchman as he basically skips down the path and towards the nearest enclosure.

As he sees the black and white animals, Daniil gets the feeling they won’t be going anywhere further than that. Of course, the first animals they had to cross paths with are pandas – Pierre’s favourites.

“Look at them, they’re so cute!” Pierre gushes as he watches the animals, a large grin on his face that brings out a soft smile from Daniil. He’s bouncing in place, taking out his phone so that he can take a photo of them.

“They are,” Daniil agrees, eyes moving from the pandas to Pierre. As he takes in the pure joy on his face, he decides that staying in one place for the rest of the day isn’t that bad, as long as Pierre’s happy. “Do you want me to take a photo of you?” he offers, earning a nod from his boyfriend.

Pierre hands him his phone and smiles softly at the camera, causing Daniil’s heartbeat to quicken. When Pierre takes the phone back, he flips the camera to the front and pulls Daniil closer until they’re pressed together, Pierre’s lips pressing against Daniil’s cheek.

He laughs when he sees the blush on his boyfriend’s face, pocketing his phone and taking Daniil’s hand in his. “I want to adopt a panda,” Pierre says, looking back into the enclosure fondly.

“I know,” Daniil replies, shaking his head fondly, “You’ve said so about a hundred times already.”

Pierre shrugs sheepishly, “I just really love pandas. It would be so much fun to have one, but I know that’s impossible. They’re just so adorable.”

_Not as adorable as you,_ Daniil thinks as he observes the fond smile on Pierre’s face and the sparkle in his eyes as he gushes about pandas, oblivious to the fact that Daniil hasn’t heard a word of what he’d said.

He bites his lip and blushes once he realises Daniil is looking at him, a soft look in his eyes and a smile tugging on his lips. “What?” Pierre mumbles.

Daniil shakes his head, “Nothing. Just thinking about how much I love you.”

Pierre’s smile widens at Daniil’s words and he presses their lips together, muttering, “I love you, too.” When they separate, he tugs at Daniil’s hand and pulls him down the path, “Let’s go, there’s more animals to see!”


	34. max/charles: a poem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am I struggling with a bad writer's block? hell yes
> 
> enjoy this badly written, no-form poem (lol this can't be called a poem) about my favourite boys

_A leaf falls from the willow._

_It glides through the air._

_Dances in the light summer breeze._

_It finds its place on top of Charles’ head._

_Max chuckles as he looks up, confused. _

_The book he’s reading remains open._

_Leaning across the blanket, Max plucks the leaf out of Charles’ hair._

_“Thank you,” he says, looking up at Max._

You’re welcome,_ he wants to reply._

_The words get caught in his throat._

_He settles for a smile._

_Kisses Charles’ cheek._

_Gets pulled into his lap._

_The book becomes forgotten as Charles moves to kiss him._

_Painfully slow._

Max wakes up.


	35. max/pierre: the simple things in life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> max is so in love

**They are sitting** on Max’s balcony, watching as the sun sets over the Monègasque horizon right in front of them, illuminating them with its soft and warm light. The orange hues make the terracotta tiles stand out even more against the white, rattan furniture pressed up against the creamy beige exterior of Max’s building.

Closing his eyes, Max breathes in deeply. He lets himself relax against the soft pillows placed over the hard furniture, stretches his legs and feels the warmth of the hot, summer day nipping away at his skin; the sensation reminds him of Pierre, which is funny considering Pierre is sitting just a few metres away.

Cracking one of his eyes open, Max looks at the Frenchman whose eyes are sparkling in amusement, set on him along with that tiny grin of his that drives Max crazy. “What?” the Dutchman asks, raising one of his eyebrows questioningly.

Pierre shakes his head, though the smile doesn’t leave his lips as he replies, “Nothing.” Then, after a moment of silence, he adds, “You seem happy.”

“I am.” It’s true, what Max says. There’s been nothing but lightness in his chest, mind calm and peaceful unlike before, when Max would spend days stuck in his flat with the simulator, doing nothing but practicing, trying to get even better and better until he’d eventually reach his limit and fall into a pit of nothingness, ice-cold and sad, and craving comfort.

Since Pierre and he started dating, he let himself enjoy the simpler things in life, like spending peaceful evenings on his balcony and feeling the last rays of sunshine all over his body.

“I’m glad.” There’s nothing but sincerity in Pierre’s voice, coated with layers of fondness and pride, all reserved for Max who can’t do anything but watch his boyfriend in awe, ask himself _how_ he gets to be the one to call Pierre his when he’s done nothing but put others through misery all his life.

Max scoots over so he’s touching Pierre with his side, wrapping his left arm around the Frenchman and pulling him against his chest. Laughing, Pierre moves so that he’s sitting in Max’s lap; their eyes meet, soft and gentle, and full of love, and Max leans down and connects his lips with Pierre’s in an equally soft, gentle and loving kiss.

Their breaths mingle as they pull apart, but not quite. Foreheads pressed together, Max lets his hand lightly cup Pierre’s face as he kisses him again. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispers, an unmistakable rawness to his voice.

Pierre says nothing, just kisses Max, strong and powerful, and it makes Max feel the true depth of Pierre’s feelings for him. Usually it’s the other way around, usually it’s Pierre who falls victim to the deep kisses, who lets Max talk with his actions instead of his words.

But this time, Max is the one who follows Pierre’s lead, who puts his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, pulling him closer until there’s no space between them. He’s lost in Pierre, lost in his smell, his touch and his mere presence, in the emotions they both emit, lost in the _love, love, love,_ he’s so lost in it.

The sun finally sets over the Monègasque horizon in front of them. Max’s feet burn from the heat of the orange terracotta tiles, but he doesn’t care, he’s burning all over from _Pierre,_ from his kisses and murmurs, and Max is so in love, he can’t help it.

They stay like that for hours afterwards, kissing on the white rattan furniture on Max’s balcony, the glow of the moon coating them with its silver light.


	36. charles/max: blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: I'm not going to write anything for a while  
my inner demon: write a cliché action film death scene in which it takes too long for someone to die

**Blood oozes out** of the wound on his stomach, the scarlet liquid staining the front of his equally as red suit. A gasp escapes past his lips as he tries to squeeze the hole in his body, tries to do something to stop himself from bleeding, but to no avail.

Max is by his side in a second, taking hold of his body just as he falls to the ground. “Hey, look at me, Charles,” he orders, voice strained with emotion. “Don’t speak,” he says when Charles starts to open his mouth, “Don’t speak. Just look at me, okay? Don’t stop looking at me. Help will be here soon, I promise.”

_“Max,”_ Charles breathes out, raising his hand to cup the side of his face, a tiny smile tingling on his lips. “Don’t cry.” He didn’t even know he was crying until Charles wiped the fallen tears from his cheek with his thumb.

“You’re so stupid,” Max can’t help but say, “You’re so fucking stupid, you idiot. I told you not to go in here by yourself, and now you’re hurt. _Fuck,_ Charles, why are you so irresponsible?”

“I-I can’t believe you’re scolding me when I’m dying,” Charles lets out a chuckle. Max shakes his head, leaning down to press a kiss to Charles’ forehead, fingers threading his soft and messy hair, stained with sweat and grime.

“You’re not dying, okay? Help will be here soon, and you’ll live. You won’t die.” A shiver passes through Charles’ spine as Max whispers the words against his skin; his heart clenches at the helplessness in Max’s voice, something so uncharacteristic for the usually fearless man.

“Hey, Max,” he says after a moment, letting out a cough. Max hums questioningly, willing Charles to continue. “You’re good--” another cough breaks his words, “--you’re really good. Take care of Arthur for me, _please.”_

“Take care of him yourself.” Max’s voice cracks as Charles shoots him a smile before his eyes start closing slowly. His coughing ceases, and Max watches in fear as he breathes shallowly. “Charles. _Charles. Charles!”_


	37. max/charles: distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is to show that yes, every relationship has a tough part, but it's not you vs them, it's you+your so against everything else

** The covers feel** like a tonne of bricks on his back, the presence of the body fast-asleep next to him adding to the weight. Charles can feel the fabric move to the rhythm of Max’s breathing, too quick for him to be asleep.

There’s silence, one far too tense and uncomfortable, one they’re not used to, something that’s not yet happened in the six months they’d been dating. So far, it’s all been sunshine and rainbows, and they both knew that had to flip sometime, yet actually _feeling_ it, experiencing the pit of separation and differences that’s opened up between them, feels horrible.

They both know the other one’s awake. Max can feel Charles shuffling as he struggles to get comfortable, Charles can feel the deep intakes of breath from Max as though he’ll say something but then opts against it.

There’s a sigh from one of them, perhaps even both, _who even knows?_, because at this point, they’re one person; they’re not Max and Charles, they’re _Max and Charles,_ the invincible duo, the golden couple, _the greatest thing that’s happened to either of them so far._ And yeah, maybe there’s a rift between them now, and maybe it feels horrible, but Charles hopes they’ll talk about it, _not now, but in the morning._

He lets out another sigh as Max’s hand lingers over the t-shirt covering his hip, as though he’s pondering whether to touch him. The feeling of heat that erupts from the spot as Max lowers his hand feels painful yet soothing, and Charles shuffles slightly, feels it falling down onto the mattress, _can feel the disappointment radiating off of Max in waves,_ feels disappointed himself, but knows it’s for the better.

Charles can feel Max shaking his head in the dark, feels the dip of the mattress as Max sits up before standing. The coldness that falls over him is instant. He sleeps on the side of the door, so he can see Max turning on the light in the hallway, can see his silhouette as he takes out a spare pillow from the closet,_ actually feels a bit guilty because there’s two blankets over him and Max has none._

The light turns into darkness, and Charles feels his heart clench. He closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep, eventually does manage it from exhaustion but the empty space next to him haunts every moment of his dreams.

He walks out of the bedroom at four in the morning. The living room – and the couch Max is sleeping on – is on his path to the kitchen, so he can’t avoid seeing his boyfriend. There’s weight on his chest as he takes in the sight, Max asleep but with a troubled look on his face, and he’s squeezing the pillow close to his chest, and, _oh, does Charles feel bad._

The water feels like sand on his tongue. Quietly, he makes his way back to the bedroom, picks up one of the blankets from the bed and goes back, placing it over Max’s figure. Fingers wrap around his wrist and he sees Max looking up at him, still dazed but eyes pleading.

Charles lets out a sigh, leans down and presses a kiss to Max’s forehead. “Come on, let’s go back to bed,” he mutters, helping Max back up to his feet.

They make their way back to Charles’ bedroom. He lays down on his side, Max lays down on his, and they’re facing each other, faces mere inches apart. They both look exhausted, _miserable,_ but Charles still locks his fingers with Max’s.

A tiny smile breaks out on his face. Wrapping his arms around Charles, Max nuzzles his face into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, _because, really, he is._

“I’m sorry, too,” Charles responds, shuffling closer.

There’s no space between them, but they don’t seem to mind. The heat is overbearing, but neither wants to let go, feeling the distance between them closing until they’re whole again.


	38. lewis/max: dog cuddles

** Lewis runs his** fingers down Max’s spine, the featherlight touch evoking a shiver from the younger man. He turns around in his sleep and presses his face deeper into his boyfriend’s chest, mumbling something incoherently.

Smiling, Lewis continues his movements, pressing a kiss to the top of Max’s head. The soft hair tickles his nose, and Lewis chuckles quietly, closing his eyes and hugging Max closer.

The sound of paws hitting the hardwood floor causes him to open them again, and when he feels an added weight on the foot of the bed, he shoots a disapproving look in Roscoe’s direction. The bulldog pays him no mind as he plops himself down.

“Roscoe,” he whispers sternly, shooting glances in Max’s direction so he doesn’t wake him up, “Get down. You know you can’t sleep on the bed.”

Instead of doing what he’s told, Roscoe lolls his tongue, slobbering on the sheets. Lewis stifles a groan, that being the exact reason why he’s not even allowed on the bed. Hearing his groan, Roscoe stands up and trudges closer, nudging himself in-between his owners and causing Lewis to move over to make space for the dog.

“Roscoe,” Lewis all but whines, petting the top of his head nonetheless.

“Leave him be,” Max mumbles, switching Lewis’ attention to him. His voice is laced with sleep, but Lewis can feel him looking at him. Fingers gently nudge his on the top of Roscoe’s head, scratching him between his ears slowly.

Lewis sighs, but complies, settling down. With Roscoe between the two of them, he can’t wrap his arms around Max properly, so he settles on his side and watches the outline of his boyfriend’s body.

Max wraps their fingers together, keeping their hands over Roscoe. Lewis smiles, touching Max’s ankle with his. He slowly drifts off, the sound of Roscoe’s snoring lulling him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr at altisssimozucca](https://altisssimozucca.tumblr.com/)


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